


Wolverine: First Time in Heels

by Fandancer



Category: Wolverine (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Altered Mental States, Angst and Humor, Asphyxiation, Bisexuality, Bodyswap, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Crossdressing, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Language, Gender Related, Homophobia, Injury, Intoxication, Introspection, Menstruation, Mental Disorder, Original Characters - Freeform, Other, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape(off-stage), Sexual Abuse, Sexual Identity, Supernatural Elements, Tragedy/Comedy, Transgender, women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandancer/pseuds/Fandancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan just isn't quite himself today. . . . the skirt was something of a give-away, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of the Marvel characters (which include Dr Strange, Dr. Voodoo, Nick Fury, Logan, any of the X-men, Sebastian Druid, Daisy Johnson) belong to me. Jen - all of her, does, as well as her family & friends.

  
  
  
_It’s clearly going to be one of those days,_ Sasha concluded as she stepped out of the bar onto the suddenly stormy Lower East Side street. It had been her turn to step out for a change; Agent 3 had been quite good about letting her keep up with her crowded social calendar of poetry readings and at least a few of her favorite club nights. She’d taken full advantage this time - _the outfit went over quite well_ , she thought. She stroked the antique rose ruffle that plunged down the v-neck collar to try and get the water drops that had fallen from her gin and tonic off before they soaked in. _At least the skirt is short enough not to get soaked in the puddles_ , she mused as she huddled deeper into her thigh-length jacket. She felt her heels slide on the pavement - _damn; doesn’t anyone clean up after their dogs around here?_ One hand on the wall, she lifted her feet to confirm - _oh, of course. And it had to be my favorite pumps, didn’t it?_ The sounds of a fight somewhere further down Avenue A became more pronounced; apart from noting where it was coming from she tried to pay it little mind. A bar room brawl was hardly anything new. Besides, if she did let it scare her, she knew she’d shut down for the night, and she’d hoped to make it to the club later. She also knew she would never hear the end of it if she made Michael run in heels again. She stayed close to the building, relying on the scant awnings of Avenue A to keep her out of the rain. Which was fine until the first piece of masonry landed about a yard from where she was standing. 

Michael barely had time to emerge - he rarely did, but at least most of the time he didn’t suddenly find himself tottering about in heels - before he found himself facing down what looked like a demolition in progress. 

“What the f. . .” was all he managed to get out before being bowled over by the short, burly, surprisingly heavy man hurled out of the fray down the street. 

Nestled safely in the recesses of her mind - for it would always be hers, no matter what the others thought -  Agent 3 was alarmed to find they were suddenly unconscious. _Surely Michael didn’t do something rash?_ She reviewed the tapes of what had just happened - Sasha folded, _no surprise there;_ Michael emerges  - _quick as ever._ And then. . . . The footage revealed little about what had gone on, other than someone had thrown a body at them.  She considered this for a brief moment; relieved that at least no one would feel the searing pain of their head landing on the pavement, nor the ache of their ribs and shoulder from the impact. But without input, she couldn’t begin to guess what further harm awaited them out there. She calmed herself before issuing the call out. 

 _“Everyone regroup,”_ her clear British accent echoed through the mental corridors as the various personalities began to panic within the host they knew as Jen. If anyone could find a way to get them out of the gutter their collective head was bleeding into, it was she. But there would need to be a meeting of the minds first. 

Out in the real world, things were taking a turn for the worse. 

Logan sprung  off of the poor woman almost the second they hit the ground, throwing himself back into the fight with gusto - his rage stoked further by the impact. Nothing set him off like injured innocents - even worse, a woman. It took him a fleeting second to memorize her scent with hopes of making it up to her later. 

 _I thought we’d finished this,_ he steamed within his head, rage having long since shut down his speech. But this thoughts kept racing like always. _Thought they tied his diabolic ass down so he wouldn’t be able to pull this shit on anyone. Where are Ole flamer and that skull-sweatered prick when you need them?_

Blackheart caught him in mid swing, hoisting him up by his throat as Wolverine  continued to claw at his arm. 

“Enough of this!” Blackheart hissed. “as if your petty physical attacks could do more than waste my time.” 

“Didn’t laugh so hard last time, Bub.”

Blackheart considered this for the shade of a second. Logan was never truly in his league, he knew, but he did run in interesting circles,  and he was in no mood to have to start over suddenly if word of his plans leaked to the wrong person.  _Containment - yes. But where?_ His eye fell upon the unconscious woman sprawled out on the sidewalk. _Oh yes - this could be good for a laugh._  

He dragged Wolverine, still thrashing and slashing at his shifting dark form, closer to her prone body. 

“I never did get my due after your insulting refusal last time. Very well - for all the horrors you’ve seen - indeed, and committed too - I think a lesson in perspective is long overdue.” With that, Blackheart began to reach within Logan's mind, wresting the very core of his personality from it. Logan struggled to remember anything that Jean or the Professor had tried to teach him - desperately flailing to keep from being pulled out of his own mind. In the end, he could muster no defense, and he felt himself pulled from his body. 

This, as far as it went, wasn’t so bad. He’d died a time or two before - _and those are only the times I can recall,_ he chuckled to himself. _Really; could it be any worse than living with some of what I’ve had to do?_ He let the odd cool sensation wash over him as the awareness of his severance sunk in. 

It was what came next that really unsettled him. 

Blackheart dropped Logan's’ limp body into the sludge-flowing gutter, beside the woman he’d been thrown into earlier, looming over her briefly with a sardonic leer. 

“Oh yes - this will do nicely”

He took her head in his hands, forcing Logan's’ personality into her. 

*          *         *        *        *         *        *       *

The cold numbness slowly lifted as Logan became aware of his surroundings, and of the eyes of . . . . something watching him. He struggled to pull himself up, but nothing seemed to respond quite right. 

“ _What the hell do you think you’re doing?”_ a voice seemed to echo around his head. 

  
  
_Great - more fucking telepaths. Make my fucking day, why don’t ya?_   


He managed to pull himself slowly up to a crouch on the sidewalk - still too dizzy to even open his eyes. 

 _“This is our body - who the hell are you?”_ came the voice again, an icy threat in its tone. 

“Listen bub, I don’t know who you are, but I think I know my body when I’m in it,” he wheezed, his throat feeling strangely compressed. 

 _“Do you now?”_ came another voice - a woman's this time. British, from the sound of it. _“Are you so certain?”_

“Damn straight,” he answered, trying to steady his still reeling head with his hands. _Should have shaken this off by now - wasn’t physically hurt that bad. . . ._

 _“Go on, then - open your eyes, sugar.”_ a third voice drawled from out of the fog in his mind. 

Slowly his eyelids fluttered opened,  the gaze falling on the unconscious body he knew suddenly - sickeningly - to be his. 

“Oh my god, Sasha!” someone shouted from up the block as he retched into the gutter. “Are you all right?”

It wasn’t until he felt their gentle hands on his shoulders that he realized they were speaking to him. 

“”I think it’s a concussion. That guy just totally landed on her, man.” 

“ Sasha - do you need me to call anybody?”

“m’fine,” he managed to cough out, no longer vomiting. “Should be ok in a minute.” 

He struggled to get his legs under him, valiantly trying to stand. Somehow he couldn’t keep his balance. _Something on my feet. . . . ._

“I think she’s in shock,” he heard the guy with his arm around him say. “It’s ok, sweetie - they’re calling an ambulance.” 

“Don’t bother - be all right in no time.”

At that, Logan became aware of a shift within his host as a very definite presence  seemed to manifest beside him. He could almost swear he smelled clove smoke coming from somewhere. 

 _“Okay - that’ll do, junior,”_   she snapped. _“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not about to let you get us all killed.”_

He felt control of his hosts body torn away from him, heard himself ask in a much higher, quieter voice if someone could get her some water. He became aware of more entities staring him down in the darkness as he tried to watch what was happening out there.

*                               *                               *                                         *                        *

Four stories up in a corner apartment on 13th street, Nick Fury was distracted from his reconnoitering by the sirens down below. _Are they for me?_ he wondered, slipping to the window overlooking the scene. Two patrol cars - NYPD; searching the area down below. _Just a brawl -_ _getting cagey in your old age. Oh fuck - is that. . ._ He squinted through the lens of his binoculars, focussing on the unconscious figure the cops were standing over. The fight up the block he’d overheard earlier hadn’t even raised an eyebrow with him - he hadn’t even cared who was in it as long as it didn’t compromise his objective. _C’mon; get up you ole buzzard._ From the looks of the scene he’d have to have been out cold for at least 10, maybe 15 minutes. Long enough for the city’s finest to have satisfied themselves that it was safe to let EMTs on scene. 

 _Any second now. Should have been up long before now. . ._ he’d personally witnessed Logan take far worse damage, and it still hadn’t kept him down this long. Something’s wrong - he could feel it. _Dammit, Wolverine - don’t make me do this! The stakes are too high now._ Even as he thought it, he hated himself for it, and his path was clear. 

_Shit._ _Well, so much for simple,_ he spat inwardly _._ He yanked his cell phone out, dialing Daisy’s number from memory.  
“12th and A - You and Druid need to play EMTs - stat.,” he ordered before she could even get out a greeting. “Afraid it’s BYOB - their bus is about to get a flat.”

Grabbing the disc, he shut the system down, making sure he left no trace before heading down to the street and toward the scene. It was easy to blend into the crowd - _Nothing brings out the locals quite like lights and sirens,_ he mused. The PD had their hands full with what seemed to be a pack of angry poets. Easy enough to just slip on through and let the air out of the front tire and slip away. _Keep it simple - too blatant and it’ll be suspicious. I know I’d wonder who would want to stab out an ambulances’ tire._   Slipping the asphalt chunk into the air nozzle, he easily made his way up the block, blending in with the east village traffic as he made his way across the avenue. 

Sometimes he really hated the little runt. _Worst timing in the world, Cannuck, but no way in hell I’m leaving you to Osbourne’s tender mercy. Still - gotta keep you where you can’t hurt anyone. Somewhere no one ever looks. . . . ._

  
_*                            *                                *                          *                              *                   *_   


_“I have to get out of here,”_ Logan muttered in the darkness. 

 _“Oh yes - you did a wonderful job up there - I don’t think.”_   a male voice with a very pronounced London accent snarked from beside him. _“It’ll be ages before Agent 3 will let you run amok again. Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”_

  
  
_“Could ask the same question - who the hell are you people, anyway?”_   


_“We are her - she is us,”_ a child's’ voice answered. _“And if we’re very good, we get to go play.”_

Logan could perceive the gaze of the toddler on him, looking him over in that all-absorbing way of children everywhere. The scent of Playdoh and crayons seemed to emanate from somewhere in front of him. 

 _“Call me  Allie,”_ she said. 

  
  
_“I’m Logan. How did you wind up in here?”_   


_“Born here, silly,”_   Allie giggled, and for a moment, Logan could swear he felt fingers tousling his hair. _“We all were. ‘cept maybe you. Though if you were, Michael’s going to be Je-alous.”_

  
  
_“Not sure about much, but I definitely wasn’t born in_   
  
  
_this_   
  
_body.”_   Logan replied as he craned his neck to catch the last glimpses of the external video feed . The last thing he saw before it faded out entirely was a pair of EMTs working on his own body, preparing to strap him to the waiting backboard. 

  
  
_“Hey - bring that back up!”_   


  
  
_“Easy sugar; I don’t think Agent 3’s about to be doing you  any favors right now. ‘sides, nothing relating to you going on out there anyway.”_   


  
  
_“Like hell there ain’t - that was me I just saw.”_   


  
  
_“Where?”_   


  
  
_“Out there - by that ambulance!”_   


  
  
_“What on earth are you talkin’ about?”_   


_“No idea what you’re seeing, mate, but best leave it,”_ the Londoner spoke up again. _“If you’re meant to know about it, Agent 3 will clue you in. Controlling bitch that she is. Ah - Speak of the devil. . . . “_

The scent of clove cigarettes wafted over him again, really making him long for a stogie. 

  
  
_“All right then - I think it’s time we had a little chat - in private.”_   


He could feel himself being closed off from the others - not so much isolated as muffled somehow. 

 _“Now, what do you call yourself?”_ Her accent was mild, with an almost newscaster quality to her voice.  

  
  
_“I’m Logan.”_   


  
  
_“No, we are all Jen - you are merely called Logan.”_   


  
  
_“Look, lady - “_   


_“You may call me Agent 3,”_ she replied crisply. 

  
  
_“Fine - whatever. Look, I’m not like the rest of you.”_   


  
_“Naturally - all of us have a distinct function. I’d always assumed Lyle was her sole manifestation of self-destruction, but you. . . wow.”_   


  
_“Who’s Lyle? And what the hell are you people, anyway?”_   


He could sense the long considering gaze of Agent 3 - as if she sat at her desk with her steepled hands over pursed lips. When she finally did speak, her voice had taken on a measured tone, as if trying to strip it of irritation. 

 _“What I’m about to tell you is something you ought not discuss widely with the others. Most of them are well aware of the nature of our existence, though it can be a bit of a flash point - especially with Lyle. But we are the personalities of Jen Taylor. We all have our specialties, of course. Allie is, naturally, her inner child. Charlene is her nurturing aspect. Sasha is our social butterfly. Michael is our defender, obviously. Lyle is. . .”_ She paused again, searching for the right words. _“Well, Lyle is our vindictive side. We try to keep him on a tight leash. And then of course, there’s Jen. Poor dear.”_

  
_“Somethin’ wrong with her?”_   


  
_“She just never seems to recover. There used to be more of us a while back, and she’d managed to re-integrate some of them. But it just seems to take so much out of her.”_   


  
_“So what’s your job, then?”_   


  
_“”I am the commander - our authoritative voice. I keep the others in line as much as possible to help Jen function normally - well, almost. Different personalities still have some privacy, of course, which can make for awkward awakenings. This just leaves the question of what your function is meant to be.”_   


He could sense her examining him - literally feeling him out with her analytic gaze. 

  
  
_“That’s just it - I’m not native. Look, just after you yanked me out of the cockpit, you - we -saw a guy being taken away in an ambulance. That guy is me. Now I need to get back in there. So it’s real important that I know where they’re taking me.”_   


Agent 3 seemed to pause in front of him, considering this. 

  
  
_“You’re an external construct, then?”_   


Logan had never wanted a Stogie as badly in his life as he did right now.

 _“No,”_ he sighed. _“I’m a man. A stranger. Someone entirely separate.”_

  
_“Yes, I’ve explained how we all are and yet are not, I think. Interesting - a cigar-smoker.”_   


  
_“You can smell it?”_   


_“You must be very new at this, then. We all have habits and traits that act as markers to some extent.”_ she explained as the clove scent seemed to refresh itself. 

  
  
_“Huh. What I was saying though is that  I was not born in here - in Jen’s mind. I’m an entirely separate person - and the longer I stay in here, the less safe it is for everyone.”_   


  
_“You will have to excuse my skepticism; what you’re saying sounds more like possession. I will need to review the tapes to see if I can determine where and how you got in. Assuming your story is true, have you any idea how to get back?”_   


  
  
_“Not in the slightest, but I’ve got friends on the outside who might.”_   


  
_“Hmmm. Well, for the time being, you’re free to mingle with the rest of our merry band. I will simply ask that you keep the peace - it’s bad enough keeping Lyle in check.”_   


  
_“Kind of got off on the wrong foot there. No hard feelings, eh?”_   


  
_“Well, quite. If it is as you say, I can understand the disorientation. Try not to make a habit of usurping us.”_   


He could almost sense a grim, tight-lipped smile on Agent 3. The sort of polite warning expression usually followed by a drawn gun. 

 _“I’ll keep that in mind,”_ he answered. _“If you don’t mind, how bad are the - I guess our - injuries.”_

  
  
_“It’s rather bad. Concussion, bruised ribs at a minimum; fairly certain they are broken. Dislocated shoulder as well. This will take some time to heal.”_   


  
_“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about that. When I get back to my body, let me know how I can set things right.”_   


  
_“Let’s see where things stand once we get there. Meanwhile, I need to review things, and I think poor Allie has had about all she can take of this agony, so I need to check up on her.”_   


_“You left the kid in charge? In this state?”_   he growled.

  
  
_“Actually, Allie seems to bounce back from injury quicker than any of us. She seems to have endeared herself to the EMTs, which is no bad thing. So I’ll just let you out into the main mind. I may be able to let you know what I find later on when we’re asleep.”_   


He could feel things opening up again, and the eyes of the others upon him as soon as he surfaced. 

 _“Everyone, this is Logan,”_ Agent 3 announced to the assembly. _“It would seem he  will be staying with us for a time. Try to play nice, now.”_

Logan felt the attentions of the assembled personalities turn toward him. 

 _“Pleased to meet you. I’m called Sasha.”_ Her voice was smooth, with only the slightest trace of a New England accent. He was caught off-guard by her air-kiss, pulling back hesitantly, but it gave him the opportunity to feel her out a bit better. _Going to have to learn how to tell them all apart before they open their mouths - can’t rely on it staying friendly._ There was a palpable warmth to her, but with a sophisticated edge. A hint of perfume seemed to linger in her wake, like spiced roses. 

 _“Oooooh, tobacco and musk - interesting,”_ Sasha purred. _“I think you’ll like it here.”_

He could feel her still eyeing him even as she pulled away to let another of them approach. He could already smell the cologne - borderline sweet, but bracing enough to wind up in any guys bathroom cabinet. 

 _“Call me Michael,”_ the newer voice came from in front of him. His gaze was piercing, examinant - Logan could feel his every motive being dissected as they stood face to face.  _“I was the one in the cockpit when you barged in.”_

 _“Sorry ‘bout that, bub,”_ Logan offered. _“I was just kind of shoved in here blind.”_

Michael's’ mistrust was tangible. _Can you blame the guy,_ Logan chided himself. _No one likes to be shown up_. He could feel Michael brush past him, Shoulder-bumping him on his way.  Reflexively, he grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

  
  
_“Look, I’m not here to replace you. I just want to get out of here, and once I’m gone, you’ll probably never see my ugly mug again. Meantime, it don’t need to be this way.”_   


_“Whatever, “_ Michael snorted in contempt. _“I’ve got work to do. Someone’s got to watch Allie’s back.”_

Logan released him, and listened as he stomped off toward the cockpit. _Give him this much - he’s honest._ He let out a sigh, almost missing the next introduction in the personality receiving line. 

  
  
_“It’s okay sugar - it’s always rough the first couple of times. Call me Charlene.”_   


He could feel her reach out to comfort him, the scent of orange flower water and fresh baked bread seemed to envelope him in an embrace. 

  
  
_“It’ll get easier. I promise. Any time you need, you come and talk to ole’ Charlene, ok?”_   


_“Might take you up on that,_ ” he smiled, relaxing a bit as she slowly walked away. 

  
  
_“Cheers, mate - call me Lyle.”_   


Logan could sense the distance Lyle was keeping between them, just far enough to not get a clear scent off him. 

 _“Cheers man - hey, got a question for you,”_ he edged closer to where the voice had come from. _“Where can a guy go for a bit of privacy in here?”_

Lyle burst into harsh laughter at the idea. 

  
  
_“Privacy - oh, that is rich! Tell you what - prove to me you aren’t here to take me over and I’ll show you anything you want.”_   


_“Sounds fair,”_ Logan replied. _“If I can show you my actual body, would that do the trick?”_

Lyle seemed to consider this for a moment. 

 _“That would do, yeah, “_ he smiled,  edging just close enough for Logan to catch the scent of whiskey and cigarettes coming off him. 

  
  
_“Dollars to doughnuts says Agent 3 is watchin’ it right now. Is there a back way in?”_   


_“I can tell we’re going to get on like a house on fire,”_ Lyle grinned evilly, leading the way. 

Logan followed him as he seemed to race through the twisting mental corridors, through to the  library of memories. They seemed to curve off into a sprawling spiral, with smaller hallways and alcoves branching off and disappearing seemingly at random. He tried to map his trail in his own memory for future reference.  They finally stopped near the door of the screening room.  The faint sounds of bodies impacting over and over emanated from it.  

Lyle pulled him down into a crouch beside him just out of sight of the door before inching his way up close to it. 

 _“You were not wrong, my son,”_ Lyle whispered back to him.  _“ So which one are you, then?”_

  
_“The guy who landed on you.”_   


Lyle let out a long, low whistle. 

  
_“Got your clock cleaned, didn’t you? Hang on - you got up! After that?!”_   


_“It’s what I do,”_ Logan answered. 

Lyle whistled quietly again. 

  
  
_“Have to say I’m bloody impressed. Can you do that in here?”_   


  
_“Kinda  accidentally tried to - didn’t work out so well, if I recall.”_   


  
_“Damn shame, man - would have loved to have gone on a bender with you along for the ride. So; privacy then. You want the kind where we find you if we need you, or the kind where we find you when you want us to?”_   


  
_“Both. Ah hell, we got time - gimme the grand tour.”_   


  
_*                 *               *               *            *            *               *            *              *           *             *_   


_The kids have done me proud,_ Fury beamed. He’d been able to get into the ambulance a few blocks up on 14th St. and slide in beside his old compatriot.  _Still out cold - What have they done to you?_ Whatever injuries Logan had sustained were long gone; just traces of blood and torn clothes left to show for it _._

 _More importantly - what will you be like when you wake up,_ he pondered _. Probably cut through that backboard like paper and then give me grief about it._

 _“_ No idea what they’ve done to you, old man, but hang in there. We’re going to need you.”

 _“_ Well, he has no injuries to speak of,” Daisy said from the front seat of the ambulance as she  scanned his chart quickly. “BP of 110 over 70 and pulse is pretty normal.”

She paused momentarily, casting a studious glance over their patient’s face. “Pretty sure I killed this guy last time we met - We’re missing something here, aren’t we?”

Fury shot her a look of tempered condescension. _Still so much to learn. . . . ._ “You did, and yes we are - and I for one would love to know what.Kill the lights, Druid -  no one needs to know we’re riding hot.”

Sebastian Druid fumbled for the switch, eventually finding it. 

“I didn’t get much of a chance to look him over, as we were kind of in a rush, but  something feels . . . wrong. Like mystically,” he offered, swerving to avoid the pedestrian that stepped out into their path. “He just feels empty.”

A flicker of dread seemed to ripple over Fury’s stony facade, only to be quickly suppressed. 

“So where are we taking him?”

“Staten Island - no one ever looks there.  Going to have to hole him up there for a while until I know he’s safe.”

“Isn’t that why we grabbed him in the first place?” Druid asked, looking insulted. 

“Our safety, idiot. His is never a problem.”

*                 *                   *               *                         *                          *               *                   *

It seemed to go on for ages - a vast warren of alcoves and chambers worn smooth by the constant traffic. _Could’ve housed hundreds in here_ , he mused. _Maybe it had once_ \- he could trace the outlines of what seemed like some sort of memorial shrine in one of the niches they had passed, though the names on it had been illegible to him. More interesting than the mental geography was observing how the others interacted. In that as far as he could see they didn’t. Lyle would pause occasionally, his gaze seeming to follow something in the distance. 

 _“Something on your mind?”_ he finally asked Lyle after a particularly long silence. 

“No; no it’s nothing.” he replied distractedly. The scent of cigarette smoke seemed to get stronger, almost masking the ripple of new fragrance he was picking up - the noxious, overwhelmingly chemical scent perfume designers seemed to think of as “clean”, and something that he hadn’t noticed with the others before - sweat, and the brine of actual tears. _At last - someone real._ He could feel Lyle tense up as he tried to pinpoint where she was. 

 _“I’m going to have to meet her sometime,”_ Logan said. _“Best if you introduce us.”_

 _“I - I can’t,”_ Lyle answered, his voice cracking as he turned away from him. 

Logan could spot her easily enough now - just a little further down from where they had stood. Lyle stalked away, retreating back up the path they had come, leaving Logan alone there with her.  _Here’s hoping the ol’ canucklehead can still turn on the charm,_ he prayed silently as he approached her.

 _“Nice place you got here.”_ Logan could smell the balance of the fragrances shifting as he addressed her - fewer tears, more sweat. 

 _“Hi - didn’t notice you there. Which one are you?”_ Her voice seemed tired - not merely hoarse from screaming, but drained. 

  
  
_“Names’ Logan. I’m kind of new here. Are you Jen?”_   


She seemed to brighten at the mention of her name. 

 _“Yes,”_ she beamed. _“Yes, I’m Jen! Hmmm. . . . Logan. And what part of me are you, then?_ ”

  
  
_“Well, that’s where  it gets complicated - I ain’t.”_   


  
_“Really? Huh - that’s weird.”_   


_“I know,”_ Logan smiled slightly. _No idea what Agent 3’s talking about - seems sane enough to me . . ._

  
_“Kind of a silly delusion to hang onto - I mean, why would anyone want to be in here? with me?”_   


Her retort threw Logan completely. Reeling, he scrambled to find a way to keep her talking. 

 _“Why not?”_ was all he could come up with.

A wan smile crept across her visage as she turned to go, the scent of tears dominating again. 

 _“Wait - don’t. . . “_ but he knew it was too late. Her scent dissipated off into the deep recesses of the mind. For a moment he thought of following her _. Best not - maybe wait until it things have calmed down a bit._

He wandered for a whilewithno way of knowing how long , and no sense of the world outside save the growing haze of the pain killers. _They must be dosing the kid._ The corridors were abandoned now - _where is everyone?_ He retraced his steps back to library in hopes of finding someone. 

  
_Deserted._   


Logan ambled through the shelves, casually looking through the array of titles and topics - all catalogued under the name of the personality who had lived them. Against the wall near the doorway was a desk with an old desktop computer set up on it - it’s monitor flickering with the contents of the last search.  The split screen listed two sets of play lists - recently viewed and now playing. 

 _“Well, let’s see what’s on our mind, then,”_ Logan muttered into the silence.

For a moment he was relieved to find himself only listed on recent references. Until he got a closer look at the titles and mini-icons on the current play list. They seemed to be playing on a loop - every early trauma rolling like an unholy sound scape, piped up into the cockpit. Logan winced at the amalgamated horror.  _But who’s watching all this? He perused the upper part of the screen, searching for the user’s name._

  
_“Oh Jen. . . . no.”_   


He shut the monitor reflexively, in the vain hopes of un-seeing it all. Still reeling, he staggered out toward the cockpit, knowing he’d find all of them there. 

*                      *                              *                                *                           *                              *

“Well, I can safely say no one would look for anyone here if they could help it,” Daisy opined. “Did we check under the bed to make sure the last tenant isn’t still there?”

“He’ll be right at home when he wakes up,” Fury replied. “I just hope Night Nurse can find this dump. Druid - have a closer look.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, stepping closer to the well-worn bed they’d lain their quarry out on. _Pull it together; Dad used to deal with crazy shit like this all the time. Key word there - crazy. At least he had the training to deal with that_. Shaking off the distractions of his own thoughts, he focused again on the task at hand. 

“Yeah, he’s not in there, “ he said, after concluding his ritual. “It’s like something literally ripped him out of himself. He’s just a shell.”

“So, what’s keeping him alive?”

“I dunno - habit?” Sebastian shrugged. “He’s probably still on this plane somewhere - most likely he’ll go back to the scene, looking for his body if he’s still out there. As long as he’s not randomly possessing people, everything should be hunky-dory.”

Nick couldn’t decide whether to shudder or snicker at the prospect. 

“Any chance you’d be able to track him down out there?”

“Oooohh. . . . um, not sure, really. I’d need to really work on that for a bit; been too focused on combat lately.”

Nick looked down at the limp body of his old comrade in arms, contemplating the state of play. _Someone had managed to disable  - at least temporarily - the living weapon. It isn’t as though there’s a short list of folks who would love to - who’s on it that_ ** _could_** _,  though? Had Osbourne finally found a way to remove Logan as an obstacle? Daken, seems more likely, though he’d have to have had help. Was someone setting him up for infiltration again? Best play it safe._

“Work on it when you have time. Not a priority; now you’d better get that bus back where it came from - make sure you wipe it down good. I’ll make my own way back and meet you at the base.”

As the ambulance pulled away, Nick settled himself in a chair across from the bed, one hand pensively holding his chin, the other on his side arm. 

“It’s up to you now, old friend. Don’t make me regret this.”

*                         *                              *                        *                          *                       *               *

Logan  peeled down the corridor at top speed, coming out in front of the open door just as Allie stumbled through it, clutching her head in agony. 

 _“Easy there, kid,”_ he said, catching her before she fell. _“What happened?”_

She turned her faltering gaze up toward him, unable to form the words.

Through the open doorway Logan caught glimpses of the mayhem within as all the personalities clamored around the control panel. One by one they assumed command, held on briefly, then were overwhelmed, forcing them to falter. 

 _“This can’t look right out there. No way in hell they’ll send us home”_ Logan spat _._

 _“Help them,”_ Allie croaked feebly. _“Don’ wanna be locked up.”_

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  
  
_“I won’t let it happen, Darlin’. Get some rest. Maybe you oughta stay out o’ the cockpit for a while.”_   


Allie nodded, drifting into unconsciousness as Logan lay her down in the nearest niche, making a bee-line for the cockpit. 

Throwing open the door to the control room, he tried to assess the situation. Charlene was reeling as Michael quickly took the controls. Lyle was hovering near the door, still recovering from his recent turn at the helm. Jen was adrift in the corner, clearly dazed from the morphine.  Agent 3 lay on the floor in the corner, struggling to free herself from the hasty binding one of the others must have thrown over her. 

 _“We need to talk,”_ he said, pulling Jen out into the corridor.

 _“They’re going to need me in there,”_ she offered absently.

 _“Yes; yes they are,”_ he began, trying to get her to look him in the eyes _. “But first things first. Now, I don’t have the foggiest idea what this all looks like out there, but I’m guessing it don’t look good. And if they think you can’t handle this at home, they’re gonna keep us here - trust me, that won’t do you any good.  I saw the memory loop - and I know this just brings it all back for you. But whatever it takes - however bad it feels, and I won’t sugar-coat it, I know it’s bad - you need to hang on. Kill the feed - do whatever you need to do, but it needs to be you in control - and you need to be able to stay in control until we get discharged. They keep switching off like this, and we’re all going to wind up stuck here. Now can you do it?”_

Jen paused as the dread washed over her, manifesting in her sweat. 

 _“If you need one of the others to back you up, that’s ok, but rolling over like this has to end now.”_ There was more than a hint of urgency in Logan's voice. Images of what would befall them if  his presence here ever came to light lingered momentarily before him like terror blossoms. Brushing them aside, he let the serenity of meditation slowly wash over him. _Going to need to keep it in check. Gotta help them stay free if I’m ever going to get out of here._

 _“I don’t think I can. . . .”_ she began, drifting away in mid-sentence. 

  
  
_“OK; this is your call. Who do you want in charge, then?”_   


_“Just get us out of here,”_ she mumbled as she wandered down the hall. 

Logan sighed as he headed back into the cockpit, where things had degenerated even further. The trauma loop kept rolling on the screen overhead, almost blotting out the incoming feed from the world outside. Michael was barely holding on, with Sasha pulling herself up from the floor at the back of the room. Agent 3 was half-way free of her bonds in the corner, clearly in the throes of panic. _Going to have to play this one just right._

  
  
_“Ok; listen up. Don’t really care who’s up at bat next, but whoever it is needs to be able to stay there until the hospital sends us home, or they’re gonna get us committed. Level with me, Michael - can you stick it out?”_   


Michael was already beginning to falter, spasms racking his frame where he stood, but he refused to answer - unwilling to give Logan the satisfaction. 

  
  
_“Agent 3? How about you?”_   


Pulling herself free from the tangles, she staggered to her feet.

  
  
_“A bit unsteady, but provided there are no further attempted coups, I should be able to manage.”_   


  
  
_“Really can’t afford to guess wrong here, but I have an idea. Talk me through being your stand-in.”_   


_“That shouldn’t be necessary,”_ she declared flatly as she wrested the controls from Michael. 

Logan waited, one eye on Agent 3, the other scanning the room, almost daring the others to make a move. 

  
  
_“Lyle, you think you can go find Jen? If Agent 3 gives out, she’ll be the next best bet. And kill that video feed, will ya?”_   


Lyle nodded, lurching out of the control room toward the winding corridor. 

  
  
_Well, that’s two down, he congratulated himself, focusing now on the personalities remaining._   


_“Might not be a bad idea for you to go searching too, Charlene. “_ Logan suggested as he took his place behind Agent 3, reviewing the incoming visual feed. _“Might give you a chance to recover.”_

 _“Someone ought to stay; in case the poor dear needs to switch out again,”_ Charlene offered. 

  
  
_“Let Sasha stay - I’m sure between the pair of us we can hold the fort until you get back.”_   


Michael glared at him in suspicion. Even in his severely compromised state, he would not back down. 

  
  
_“You mean us four - I’m not going anywhere.”_   


_“Suit yourself - I’ll need someone who knows who’s who,”_ Logan replied, refusing to take the bait. _“And frankly, you couldn’t pay me to take over right now. But I do need some answers, and I think we all want to get out of this hospital ASAP. Sasha - talk to me. You ok?”_

Sasha stayed curled up on the floor in the corner of the room, barely moving.  Logan knelt down beside her, taking her head in his hands. She almost didn’t seem to see him at first - her thousand yard stare almost blotting him out. As her awareness returned, she shrank away from,  shrieking. 

  
  
_“Not me - oh god not me too!”_   


_“Easy. . . . I’m not going to hurt you,”_ he murmured reassuringly, staying as still as he could.

Sasha clumsily scrambled to her feet, still gibbering incoherently as she fled the cockpit. _Ok. that didn’t work._ He shook his head in his hands for a moment before looking up at Charlene imploringly. 

 _“It’s all right, sugar - I’ll stay,”_ she offered, stepping further into the heart of the cockpit, struggling to avoid looking at the monitors. 

 _“You guys have chairs around somewhere?”_ Logan inquired. _“This is gonna be a long night; you’ll need to catch the rest however you can.”_

Michael  paused for a moment, leaning one hand on the edge of the counter housing the control panel.  He turned toward the doorway behind him, opening it to reveal a supply closet. With one eye over his shoulder, he dug two chairs out, gallantly opening one for Charlene before setting his up beside the now multi-purpose door. 

Logan shrugged off the insult - _not as though I’m likely to sit comfortably about now anyway.  More importantly - they can change the layout on me. Gonna need to figure out how they do that, and what  - if anything - I can do about it when they do._

Agent 3 let out a gagging cough as she tightened her grip on the controls, jarring him from his strategic scheming. 

 _“Can either of you knock out that memory loop from here?”_ Logan demanded. 

 _“Should be one of the dials right over there,”_ Charlene answered, her voice trailing off as she made the mistake of looking up at the abject horror of the incoming feed. 

He scanned the command panel for labeling - really, any form of identification over the switches and dials. _Oh of course not. This really ain’t the time for trial and error. . . ._

 _“Narrow that down for me a bit, darlin’, “_ he said as he backed away to let her in. _“If I’m right it should make it easier for her to hang on.”_

 _“We really shouldn’t”_ Charlene began,  still hanging back away from the board. _“It’s designed to be used by only one of us at a time. And she really don’t cotton to being overruled.”_

Charlene’s hesitancy gave Logan pause. _But then what happened when I got here?_ He turned toward Michael, still glowering at him from his seat by the door.

  
_“ When I knocked you off last time - what happened? How did it look from this end?”_   


_“One minute I was at the helm, then we were knocked out. Then, as I tried to wake us up, suddenly you were there,”_ he sneered.

  
_“Ok, and when she kicked me off the board, how did she do it?”_   


  
_“Came up next to you and tore the board out from under you.”_   


_“Yeah, but how?”_ Logan persisted. _“Did she touch me? The board? Both?”_

 _“She touched you, “_ Charlene interjected before it turned infantile. _“Now if I do this, y’all will tell her you put me up to it, won’t ya?”_

 _“I’ll take the fall; tell her it was me, “_ Logan declared. _“Just do it before she collapses.”_

Hesitantly, Charlene stepped forward, gingerly turning the dial all the way to the left. The memory loop faded slowly to a dim background static, leaving only the incoming feed of the emergency room on the screen. Logan's’ gaze flitted over the image, examining the faces as carefully as he could stand to, fighting his own flashbacks as he did. Relieved and simultaneously annoyed, he came to the realization that no one he knew was there. _But neither am I. . . ._ The thought of it sent a violent shudder through him. _Anything could be happening to me - worse, be perpetrated_ ** _by_** _me._ _Who knows what damage Blackheart could do running around in my body?_

  
_“You all right sugar? You look a little green around the gills”_   


Charlene’s voice snapped him out of it. 

  
_“Always hated these places.”_   


Glancing around the room, he saw Agent 3 still standing at the controls; far more confidently than before. Even Michael seemed to tone down his stance. 

 _“Oh goody, Stephanie's here!”_ Charlene exclaimed gleefully. 

He dared a quick glance up at the monitor to see who she meant. Approaching them was a moderately tall, fairly average looking woman wearing a polo shirt and khakis. Her dark chestnut bob-style hair seemed to tickle the edges of her small, rectangular framed glasses.  Her face was a twisted puzzle of concern and reassurance as she reached out to stroke their hair. 

 _“Jen’s sister -  we live with her,”_ Charlene warbled merrily. _“She loves my pancakes.”_

 _“_ It’s going to be ok,” Stephanie cooed. “I’ll call in sick so I can stay with you.”

Logan couldn’t help noticing she didn’t call her sister by name. 

“They might need to keep you overnight,” she continued. “So I need you to be brave for me, ok?”

Agent 3 began to tear up at the controls as she replied through Jen. _Strain is starting to take it’s toll on her,_ Logan noted. Michael seemed mollified by Stephanie's presence.   _Might not get another chance - and time’s a wasting._

 _“Ask her if they know where my body wound up,”_ he murmured as he leaned close to Agent 3.

Agent 3 bristled at the affront. _Filthy upstart - no manners at all!_ But she had to confess it was a question that had plagued her since she had reviewed the tapes. _If he got up after hitting us as hard as that, clearly there’s more to him than he’s letting on._

“The guy that hit us - what happened to him?” her accented voice inquired of Stephanie. 

“Oh sweetie, I don’t know. I think they’re still looking for him,” Stephanie answered.  “I’m sure he won’t come looking for you. You’re safe - I promise.”

Logan felt his stomach turn as he listened. _We’re sitting ducks here.  If anybody come for these girls, there ain’t a thing I can do to stop them - especially if I have to fight on both fronts._

“I’m just going to see if they can get you into a room. And I think the policemen are going to want to talk to you,” she smiled reassuringly, patting their hand before chasing after the harried nurse as she rushed past. 

“Okay Jen, I’m just going to take you downstairs for your MRI now,” the approaching orderly chirped. 

“Go with him, sweetie - I’ll be right here,” Stephanie called from the nurses station. 

Inside Jen’s head, the walls of the cockpit felt as if they were beginning to close in on  him. Logan staggered past Michael and through the door out into the empty corridor. He slammed his back against the outer wall beside it, trying to beat down the frustration and looming dread. 

 _“Careful, sugar - you’re gonna hurt yourself,”_ Charlene chided, peeking through the doorway.  _“Why don’t you go on and tell me what’s on your mind?”_

After a long, slow breath, Logan began. 

 _“They’ve gone and lost my body, “_ he growled, trying to calm himself. _“ I can’t even guarantee that no one’s running around in it right now, killing people and getting away with it because they think it’s me. And the longer I stay, the worse it’s gonna get.  Stephanie thinks we’re safe - “_ he paused, aching for a cigar to drag on. _“If my body’s on the loose, there’s no such thing.”_

 _“Aw, sugar, I know you’re missin’ your body and all, but it couldn’t be_ ** _that_** _dangerous, now could it?”_ she cajoled. 

  
  
_“Yeah - it could; don’t even know how many people I killed last time this happened.”_   


Charlene blinked in surprise at the statement. 

  
  
_“This all happen to you a lot, son? You should see someone ‘bout that.”_   


_“Not that often - I move in strange circles,”_ he shrugged.

 _“Oh boy, do you need new friends,”_ she exclaimed. _“All the same, there ain’t a thing we can do ‘til we get outta here. And nothin’ for that but time.”_

Logan sighed, closing his eyes as he rolled his head back against the wall. 

 _“How’s she holdin’ up in there?”_ he inquired. 

  
  
_“A bit peaked, but hangin’ on. I might take over in a sec just to play it safe.”_   


He nodded his head, silently beginning to regroup himself for the long night ahead. 

  
  
_“Be back in in a bit - leave the door open for me, will ya? I know he won’t.”_   


  
  
_“O’course, sugar. Jus don’t dawdle too long - I think you’ll want to be here when we talk to the police after our x-rays and MRI.”_   


Logan nodded again, slowly sinking into a half-crouch where he stood. _Nothing in the world could make me sit through the MRI in there,_ he ruminated. _Hard enough knowing we’re stuck here for another what - six, maybe 12 hours? At least the kid’s sister is here. But why wouldn’t she call Jen by her name? Is she afraid one of us will get mad? Or is there something else going on?_ He took advantage of the quiet to sink into meditation once more. 

The sound of Agent 3 clearing her throat from the doorway a while later broke his concentration. 

 _“Everything ok?”_ he inquired, rising from the floor.

 _“You’ve no idea, have you?_ ” she raved, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned in the doorway. _“Absolutely no idea - blissfully unaware of how utterly vile your behaviour in there was.”_

 _“Which part - where I managed to get the cockpit population down to a manageable number or where I got them to shut down the flashback loop so you could hold the reins longer?”_ he retorted. _“’cause I’m not seeing how I so gravely insulted you by helping you hang on.”_

  
_“Yes, but that’s just it -_   
**  
_I_   
**   
_was in charge. Those were_   
**  
_My_   
**   
_calls to make. And I’ll thank you to refrain from feeding me dialogue suggestions. “_   


_“Did it work?”_ he asked flatly, pulling the rug out from under the argument. 

  
_“Beg pardon?”_   


_“Did it work?”_ he reiterated, looking up at her expectantly.

  
  
_“Rather beside the point, isn’t it? This is about decorum and basic tact.”_   


_“No - this is about you being so afraid you might lose face in front of your cohorts that you’ll blow our chances of getting out of here quickly and safely rather than accept a tiny bit of help,”_ he replied, struggling not to shout. _“You needed an assist - I gave you one. Keep punishing folks for doing the right thing and they’ll stop doing it after a while. That what you want?”_

Agent 3 snapped her jaw shut, turning her gaze away from him. 

 _“I would have asked anyway, “_ she shot back before heading back into the cockpit. 

Logan shook his head, following after her. _If I’m not crazy by the time I get out of here, it’ll be a goddamn miracle. And I thought women were hard to understand on the outside._ To his surprise, Charlene was seated beside the door, while Michael was at the helm. 

 _“It was his shift -well; “_ Agent 3 explained off-handedly. _“He took over from Sasha. I’ve called her back, but she’s notoriously fragile.”_

 _“Have a seat, dearie,”_ Charlene offered, patting the chair beside her. Someone - and he could guess by process  of elimination alone - had set out more chairs. Michael stood next to his at the controls, fully engrossed in piloting. On screen, Logan could see they were still en route to the main ER . People were thronging in the hallway -  patients with no bed and no options. He was relieved Jen’s senses were not as sharp as his own. 

Sasha cowered just outside the doorway, nervously peering into the control room. 

 _“It’s all right, Sasha, “_ Agent 3 snapped in exasperation. _“Just come in.”_

Agent 3 settled herself into the chair beside the controls, gesturing to Sasha to join her there. 

 _“Now it’s quite simple - in a moment, Michael is going to let you take over. The police are going to ask you for a statement.”_ Agent 3 paused, letting Sasha try to catch up.  _“Tell them what you saw.  Michael will fill us in about any details of what he saw if necessary. For the moment, we’re keeping mum about Mister Logan, but should you get the chance, inquire as to the whereabouts of the man that fell on you. Clear?”_

Sasha nodded, then seemed to consider something for a moment. 

  
  
_“If they ask if I know him. . . ?”_   


_“You’ve never seen him before - “_ Agent 3 cut her off. _“Now get ready - you’re on in 5....4....”_

Sasha gingerly stepped up beside Michael, shaking out her tensions before taking over. Michael shot her a concerned glance as he moved aside to accommodate her. 

 _“If they push her too hard, is there a back-up plan?”_ he asked Agent 3 pointedly. 

 _“I’ll take over as a last resort, “_ she replied. _“And let’s hope we can get a room.”_

Logan looked up at the screen,  comforted that Stephanie would be there with them.  The cop next to her  - a tall, young, black man - had the look of an exhausted rookie. He was already completely absorbed in his writing, almost to the point of not noticing their arrival. _Oh good - probably chalk the oddness up to being medicated._ He eased back ever so slightly in his seat. 

“Honey, this is Officer Myree, and he’s. . . “ Stephanie glanced over at him, “well,  actually I don’t know how you need to do this.”

Officer Laurence Myree smiled politely at her ramblings. _Eight months I’ve been out on patrol, and this is the first time with a first-time report? Damn._

“That’s ok  - I just need to ask you what you remember about what happened, “ he replied, turning his attention to Jen. “So let’s start with where this happened.”

“Ok, I had just stepped out of the Raven -  “ Sasha began her recounting.

“All right; wait - where is that, exactly?” he asked, pausing in his notes for the address. 

“It’s on Avenue A. . .  .” Sasha explained.  “Hang on; I have a matchbook somewhere. Steph dear, could you hand me my purse?”

“A cross street is fine, ma’am,” he interjected, pre-empting Stephanie’s mad scramble through the pile of belongings at the edge of the bed. 

“12th St. The weather had turned stormy, and I heard a fight down the block.”

“If you could - which direction?” he asked, sketching out a quick map on the report. 

“Further down, “ Sasha elaborated. “I think it was down A, but maybe it started down one of the side streets off that way,” she pointed vaguely to an area on the map.

“Huh. Ok, “ he mused. “That’s a really long way off for a fight.”

“Kind of - at first I thought it was just something at one of the bars down there. And then there was rubble landing near me, so I got a bit scared.”

“Rubble?” His eyebrows arched.  _Just like the Sarge said - every time you think you’ve got it figured out, the facts will sneak up and blindside you._

“Ok, chunks of cinderblock - I think it was cinderblock, at least. I didn’t really pick one up and look at it,” she continued. “Anyway, it’s never a good sign when pieces of building start coming down out of the sky around you, so I tried to stay close to the awnings. And then some poor guy must have been thrown into me.”

He considered this for a second letting his note-taking catch up with the conversation.  _Probably best not to scare her with supposition, but this has the stink of capes all over it._

“Did you actually see him get thrown?”

Inside their head, Sasha cast a plaintive glance over at Michael, waiting for his answer. 

 _“I saw nothing,”_ he professed, ashamed at his failure.

Sasha winced internally in  sympathy before translating his answer outside. 

“ I was a little distracted. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Officer Myree glanced up at the victims sister, hoping against hope she’d step away. _No such luck - They never do._  

“I wonder if maybe you could find out if the cafeteria is still open?” he hinted. 

“Oh, no - no no; it was dog shit.” Sasha blurted, catching his implication.  “I had stepped in some, and had been trying not to step in any more.”

Officer Myree rolled his eyes and smirked. On the scale of embarrassments, that barely rated. _Practically a daily occurrence on my patrol_.

“Just curious - any idea what happened to the guy that landed on me?” Sasha continued, sensing the interview was nearing it’s end.

“I haven’t heard anything, sorry, “ he replied, wrapping up his notes. “Not even sure which hospital he wound up at. But your sister has my card. If you think of anything else, just give me a call. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay;” she sighed. “Thanks.”

Sasha leaned back trying not to jar her shoulder. Her ribs ached whenever she moved, and the din of the place was wearing on her. 

“Can we just go home?” she implored Stephanie.

“Oh sweetie, I know - let them finish and I promise I’ll get you out of here as fast as I can. But they still need to finish treating you. Just try to relax.”

Inside, Sasha tensed up as she saw the nurses coming toward them again. 

 _“She’s wavering, “_ Logan groaned. 

 _“I can’t blame her, “_ Charlene replied. _“We never had pain like this before.”_

 _“No, he’s right,”_ Agent 3 concurred. _“It’s only going to get worse. Sasha - let go.”_

Sasha was all too relieved to comply, loosening her grip as soon as the bandages came into view.

 _“Logan, take the helm, “_ Agent 3 smiled wickedly, stepping aside to let him through.

He sighed - _should have seen this coming -_ rising from his place by the door and stepping forward toward the controls.  _I’ve had worse;  compared to what I usually get into this is kid stuff._ Laying his hands on the panel, he was suddenly immersed again in the reality of the ER. He sniffed the air, quickly regretting it as the stabbing, throbbing pain in their ribs rose up again. The antiseptic sting was dampened by the sheer tide of humanity swarming around them, but that was all he could glean from it. _Gonna take a while to get used to this - like losing depth perception fer me._

“OK Jen - we spoke to your sister;  because of your condition,  we’re going to need to wrap your ribs temporarily,” the doctor explained. “As soon as you can, and as often as you can stand it, you should keep the wrap off, so you can breathe deeply and keep from developing pneumonia. “

The sensation of Stephanie’s hand on their hair made a soothing counterpoint to the searing pain, keeping the flicker of rage beginning to tease at the back of his mind tamped down.  It was an emotion he had rarely savored, _what does it say about me that I have to be someone else to feel this?_

“Ok - I won’t pretend to like it,” Logan growled. “Just do it.”

He turned haltingly to face Stephanie, reaching for her with their good hand. Her hazel eyes glistened, a whorl of surprise, confusion and a flickering of pride mingling with her concern. For a moment her suspicion glinted there before she forced it aside, taking their hand in hers. He steeled himself , trying not to react outwardly as the pressure of the bandages set off the waves of agony again, though he did wince slightly as they moved the dislocated arm to get it in place.  _Yep, I’ve had worse, but them. . . . after what they’ve been through they didn’t deserve this.  And this was my fault. Accident or no, I did this - and I will get us through._

“Wow, you’re a real trooper, “the nurse observed, putting the finishing touches on the wrap. “How does it feel?”

Inhaling sharply, the pain rising intolerably, he grimaced as the nurses hands made contact over their ribcage. He could feel the nausea coming back on again - _as if there were anything left to puke up._

“It hurts; nothin’s gonna change that,” he rasped. 

“Hmmm. . . pain killers should be doing something, “ she said, riffling through the chart to check the dosage time.  “To set your shoulder, we need you to relax a bit, and the pain won’t let you do that.  Let’s start a slow infusion of Versed and morphine.”

“Wait; Versed - won’t that mess up memories?” he began before the retching made it impossible to speak. 

“Sometimes,” the doctor began, nonchalantly handing her a wastebasket to vomit into.  “But even then, all you would lose is the memory of this - and the pain . And really - why would you want those?”

“’Cause they’re mine,” Logan coughed, still hovering over the bucket.  “And you don’t know what a memory is worth until you start losin’  ‘em.”

Taken aback, the doctor paused before answering her. 

“That may be so, but the best I can offer is this - Your sister will be with you the entire time. Anything that happens in between, we’ll tell you all about it when it’s over.”

“You won’t know what to look for,” he wheezed, shooting a look over their shoulder at Stephanie. 

“I can promise you the person that did this to you isn’t anywhere in this hospital, if that’s what’s scaring you, “ the doctor replied. 

“The not being here is scarier.” Thoughts were getting harder for him to verbalize - _sneaky bastards must’ve started it already._ He could already feel everything slowly getting hazy. 

“They probably took him to another hospital, “ the doctor stated off-handedly. “Now, we’re going to let you settle down for a few minutes, and when we get back, we’ll see to that arm of yours. OK?’”

 _Even if it isn’t , it’s too late now. . ._ The warm, soothing numbness began to settle over them.  He nodded, resigned to whatever they had in store. 

“Sweetie, it’s ok - You know I won’t let them do anything to you unless they really have to, “ Stephanie pleaded, lifting their head in order to look them in the eye. “Once we get through this, we’re that much closer to going home.”

“Uh huh. . . . and while I’m in here, who knows what they’ll make him do?” he murmured. 

“Wait - what do you mean?”

Logan waved away the thought with their good hand, content to at least have her there. He leaned their head on her shoulder, savoring the warmth of her cheek against their face. _I’m the one who’s supposed to make things ok, damnit - never could deal with being vulnerable._

“’m sorry, “ he mumbled.  “You deserve better.”

“Lyle - don’t do this; not now, ” Stephanie whispered urgently into Jen’s ear.

“Sweetie, just let it do what they need it to do. I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Not . . . . Lyle, “

Stephanie pulled back, shuddering ever so slightly. She shot a look over at the attending nurse, unsure which would be worse - if she had heard , or if she had not. 

“’s ok; won’t hurt you,” he slurred, reaching to pull her closer. “’s a long story - don’t tell them I’m here.”

“um. . . . ok.” Stephanie answered. “Just don’t hurt her.”

“Never meant to. I’ll . . . I’ll make it right. Jus’ need to get back.”

“Let’s talk about this at home, ok?” Stephanie cut him off. “I think we all agree Jen needs to go home, yes?”

Logan/Jen nodded emphatically, wincing as their shoulder moved along with it. 

“Oof,  - don’t do that; try to keep still, ok, sweetie?” Stephanie cried out, carefully leaning in to whisper “Just hold it together and we’ll get out of here without much fuss. Please. “

“Was easier before they doped me up again,” Logan offered. 

“I know, sweetie, “ she lilted, stroking their hair again.  “There’s only two things you need to do - try not to move until they tell you to and stay as quiet as you can. Can you do that? For me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, wait - three things; sorry. “ she said, leaning back in again. “When you do finally go to the toilet, please don’t freak out.”

“Huh? Why would I. . . . “ he queried, cutting himself off as the penny dropped. Before he could stop himself, their hand reached instinctually for their groin, pulling away with a muffled gasp. 

“Ok, so you’re definitely not Michael. You must be new, “ Stephanie concluded. “We’ll save the formal introductions for home.”

Logan nodded - slower this time. _So much easier - at least we don’t have to fight this alone. Just need to figure out how to keep them both out of harms way. First things first - gotta get through this. Get discharged. . . ._

“Are they still giving us a room?” he asked. 

“They’re pretty swamped, sweetie. I don’t know if they have one.”

“Good.”

“Wait; why?” Stephanie asked, confused. 

“ Be happy to send us home soon as they can, “ Logan observed. 

Stephanie paused at this. 

“How would you know?”

“Long story,”

 _They always are,_ Stephanie mused. _For once, a personality that can edit would be nice._

“It won’t take much longer for this stuff to kick in, “ she observed, glancing up at the IV bag. “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow - just promise me you’ll do the same.”

“Yes.”

Inside, Logan could feel the sedation taking hold. _Can’t fight this much longer - body just won’t hold out._ Slowly he let his resistance down, sinking into the fog overtaking them. The rest seemed to happen on autopilot - the wrapping, wrenching and bandaging - all of it happening and yet lost to him almost as soon as it occurred. He could hear the voices of the others behind him in the cockpit clearer now than the voices outside. 

 _“Priceless, mate - the first one’s always rough,”_ Lyle chuckled. _“At least Steph warned you. I had to find out in a nightclub toilet.”_

In spite of himself, Logan laughed. 

 _“Yeah, the girl I was trying to shag was pleased. . . . hands on the panel, mate.”_ he reminded him. _“I know it’s foggy, but you’ve got to hold on.”_

Logan took a momentary glance around to see who was there with him. No sign of Sasha or Allie, though no one else seemed to have left. 

 _“Jen?”_ Logan queried, turning back to the panel.

 _“Didn’t want to be found, “_ Lyle answered. 

Logan nodded silently, struggling to focus on the outside world once again.  Stephanie was standing over them, holding their hand. The attending nurse seemed preoccupied with their vital signs, brow creased in nervous calculation. _Gotta pull through this; can’t let them down. Say something - anything._

“Let’s hit a diner on the way home,” he croaked. 

“Oh, yeah; you’re going to be fine. “ Stephanie smiled, wiping their hair from their brow. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *            

The ride home was a blur - between the rays of blinding late morning sunlight and the pain killers making concentration damn near impossible, all he he was sure of was they were somewhere in Queens. He’d never been so relieved to see an elevator in his life. _Keep forgetting how long this takes without the healing factor. . . . Gotta find a way to speed this up._

“Okay, “ Stephanie began, opening their bedroom door for them.  “Before I let you go to sleep, let’s do formal introductions.  Pleased to meet you - I’m Stephanie,” She instinctively put her hand out, as she had countless times before, withdrawing it awkwardly as she saw how unsteady her sister was.  “Ok, skip the handshake - sorry.”

“Logan,” he answered, ignoring the faux pas in favor of scoping out their new room. _Someone’s an Ikea fan;_ two of the walls of the small bedroom were lined with shelves and dressers of varying heights. On either side of the twin bed stood night tables with cabinets. A series of clothing racks stood along the closest wall, ending just before the doorway. The dark finish of the furniture was warmed somewhat by the parchment-like finish on the beige walls. He stepped into the landscape of organized chaos he understood to be their bedroom, scanning for anything he could use as a weapon. 

“Okay, so Logan - tell me about yourself, “ Stephanie continued, interrupting his review as she followed them inside. 

“The less you know, the safer you and your sister are,” he answered, turning back to face her.  “I’ll try to keep you both safe, but there are some real nasty folks who would love to get their hands on me - body or soul - and I don’t intend to give ‘em the pleasure.”

“That’s um. . . .  reassuring,” Stephanie stammered uncertainly. _Never had one of them think of themselves as an outsider before._ “Any ideas about who or what I should be looking out for?”

“No one knows I’m here except you and the bastard that put me here, so start by not talking about me - don’t mention my name to anyone, “ he instructed, half- dodging the question. 

“Sure - okay,” she nodded nervously. “But specifically - who’s after you?” _Damnit, quit dodging me on this. If I don’t know what’s scaring you, I can’t help you._

“Let’s keep this simple,” he sneered dismissively. “If someone comes to you asking about me, presume the worst and get out of there. Tell them nothing.”

“Already said I wouldn’t. But please - is it the cops?”

“Please, “Logan snorted. “They do what they can, but this is way outta their league.”

“So who?”

“C.I.A., N.S.A., H.A.M.M.E.R., Canadian Intelligence, the Russians,” he began rattling down the list.  “All of ‘em want to take a shot at me. And not all of them are people - some actual demons on that list - including the one that dropped me in here. Wouldn’t count on him leaving us alone.”

“I see,” Stephanie quipped. _Great , a paranoid,_ she sighed inwardly. _This’ll be a field day._ “I don’t think we’re liable to hear from any of them. If it’ll make you feel better I can have the room blessed or something, but right now what you need is sleep. I’m just going to dress you for bed - cousin James will be coming by later to help me keep an eye on you.”

Stephanie made her way to one of the night tables, picking out a long, simple nightgown. 

“Sleeves; damn. . . . ah - here we go,” she presented a long tank dress to them for approval. 

“Pink hearts? Really?”

“Another one down here with pink puppy dogs,” Stephanie offered. 

Logan assessed the nightgown’s length. _I’d be tripping all over the place in that._

“Nothing with pants? It’s kind of long. “

Stephanie shook her head. 

“You’re only going to need help getting them down every time you have to pee. And besides - it’s not that long, “ she said, holding it up to her body. It hung somewhere around her calves. 

He pawed awkwardly through the racks along the wall for anything that might suit the needs of the moment. No ray of hope peered out from between Michael’s immaculately pressed shirts or Lyle’s more fascinating club gear. 

“I’d let you wear the bathrobe to bed, but it’s going to keep slipping off without your arm through the other sleeve, and yeah - not good.”

“You expect me to believe the guy who wears this,” he said tentatively edging  the tall armored-looking boot out from beneath the rack with his foot “goes to sleep in that?”

“Actually, Lyle tends to sleep naked,” Stephanie replied, adding bitterly “ - when he does finally pass out.”

“Look, if something happens, I can’t get all tangled up in something like that.  Hell - even something like it but shorter,” he pleaded. 

Stephanie looked at her incredulously. _This must have really rattled you, sis, to have generated someone so paranoid._

Just so I’ve got this straight - you’re worried that the length of the nightgown is going to cramp your fighting style if you have to defend us.”

“Yep.”

“And you don’t feel that oh, I don’t know, the broken ribs and dislocated shoulder would pose any obstacle at all?”

Logan sighed in resignation, relieved no one would see him like this.

“Fine; whatever. Let’s get it over with,” he snarled. 

“I’ll pick up the poetry from the bar tomorrow,” Stephanie explained as she began to help them undress. “I’m sure they’ll want a full report. I’ll just tell them you’re at home resting and should be out and about soon.”

  
  
_Shit - the bar._   


“Which bar?” he asked nervously. _Please - not one I know. . . . not that it matters - nothing spreads like scuttlebutt in this town.  Fastest way to get the word out about anything is to tell a drinking buddy._

“The Raven,” she answered off-handedly. “Sasha reads there at open mic night.”

He skimmed through his internal directory of New York bars. _Name rings a bell. . . Think I passed though it on one of my benders. For such a random mix of folks, they were downright familial - I’d have laid odds Kurt could’ve walked in there without raising so much as an eyebrow. First time I’ve ever seen a bunch of_ ** _guys_** _dancin’ on a bar. . . . with the bouncer helping them get up there, too. Shoulda stayed there that night. Word gets around places like that really fast - could make this work for me._

“Do me a favor - ask if they know what happened to the guy. Expect that info will make it’s way through the rumor mill twice before it makes its way to the precinct house.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, sure.” Stephanie agreed. “Now let’s get you settled.”

He ambled toward the bed, stepping around the gargantuan boot he’d kicked out of place. _For such a small room they really managed to pack a lot of stuff into it._

Stephanie busied herself with propping up the pillows as much as she could. 

“Hmmm . . .. hang on a sec; let me see if I still have that chair-cushion thingy. Don’t do anything until I get back, okay?”She said, stepping out the door to her own room. 

He stood beside the bed, bewildered by the structure of stuffed animals and pillows she’d managed to pull together so far. A shadow of a thought flickered momentarily in his head.  _Gotta be sure - really just gotta check._ He gazed through the doorway surreptitiously to make sure Stephanie was busy, then quickly flexed the good wrist as he’d done countless times before. 

 ** _Nothing._**  

 _Just gonna make this that much harder,_ he lamented. 

“Ok, found it,” Stephanie chirped, nudging the doorway with a giant purple husband. “Should make it easier for you to get up if you need to. What’s up with your hand? You ok?”

“It’s nothing - I had an itch,” he lied, letting it fall back to it’s casual state.  “Gone now.”

“Just be careful - you’re really fragile right now. This is going to take a long time to heal up. So, no rapid movements, no heavy lifting,  and absolutely no running.”

“Alright - don’t get your panties in a bunch,” he muttered. “I know the drill. Been through this more times than you’ve had hot meals, kid.” 

“Sure; right.,” Stephanie snickered. Recovering her composure, she continued. “I just don’t need you going off in a fit of misplaced bravado making it worse. You were extremely lucky - If he’d landed differently, we might not even be having this conversation.”

 _Lady, you have no idea. . . ._ He struggled to keep his thoughts from manifesting in their expression, tensing up visibly. 

“Anyway, you should take your painkillers before you go to sleep,” She winced, stroking their face in sympathy before turning to retrieve them. “I’m going to leave the door unlocked until you’re healed up - at  least until the shoulder is out of the sling.”

“Makes sense - it’s just us two, right?” he inquired, following her haltingly toward the kitchen. 

“Well, I told you about James,” she explained as she dug a plastic cup out of the cabinet. “But sometimes Roger comes by - he’s away on business ‘til next week, though, so yeah - just us.”

“James any good in a fight?”

“I dunno - maybe? He supposedly cleaned uncle George’s clock a few years back, but that’s probably not that hard to do.”

  
  
_This is gonna be like defending the Alamo with a spoon; Gotta figure out something._   


“Okay - “ she chirped, breaking his train of thought. “Down the hatch.”

“Hate these things; seriously,” he glowered as he reluctantly swallowed them. “If this wasn’t taking so damn long, I’d never touch ‘em.”

“Seriously glad to hear that; things are chaotic enough without an addiction in the mix. Now off to bed. These seem to hit you pretty quick at the hospital. Hopefully they’ve lowered the dosage a little.”

Stephanie ushered him out of the kitchen and back to their bedroom, gently helping them into the bed. Pulling the light blanket around them, she gently kissed their forehead before looking into their eyes with a long, searching gaze. 

“Looking for something in particular?” Logan asked. 

“No;” she sighed forlornly. “It’s nothing. Good night, sweetie.”

He watched her turn to go, almost dejected as she made her way. 

“G’night,” he managed to croak out as she reached the door. 

She smiled back sadly as she shut the light, leaving the door slightly ajar for them. 

 _Finally,_ he thought as he heard her footsteps fade. _Let’s get a look at ourself, then._ He wrestled his way gingerly out of the cushioned fortress and stood before the mirror behind the door. The tall, young, chestnut haired figure blinked back at him from it. As he raised their good hand, it raised a dainty, mostly still well manicured hand back. From beneath her Bettie Page style bangs her brown eyes squinted, her aquiline nose wrinkled as he scrutinized his temporary self. Her medium frame turned slowly; _Not bad - at least she’s no couch potato._ Her pouty lips twisted critically as he went on, letting it all sink in. _For now, this is me - but it’s also her - and I need to keep her safe. Just hope I don’t have to fight on both fronts is all._ He sighed heavily as he gently touched his hand to their reflection. 

“Jen, I’ll get us out of this, I promise you,” he whispered. “But you’re gonna have to help me. I can’t do this alone.”

He could feel the medication kicking in. Stumbling back to bed, he cast his gaze over their shoulder for one last look before easing back into the cushions, letting sleep overtake them at last. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

The panel slid from beneath his hands as he rejoined the collective mind coffee klatch.  Lyle  silently patted him on the back, deftly avoiding Agent 3’s gaze. The twilight diaspora had begun at last, and no one wanted to be the last one out tonight. Dodging the others as best as he could, Logan made his way to Agent 3, facing off with her. _Weird finally having a face to look at - kind of got used to the blurry  spectral heads they had before._

 _“So - the tapes?”_ he inquired.

Everyone froze in their tracks, turning back to watch this conversation. 

 _“What about them?”_ she shot back, her guard clearly up. 

 _“Did you see what you needed to see?”_ he quizzed. 

 _“I saw. . . . something.”_ she replied. _“The only thing we were aware of after getting knocked unconscious was when they got off of us.”_

 _“Want me to describe that from the outside for ya? See if it matches up to how it felt?”_ he offered. 

 _“If you like,”_ she answered, her voice calm but her lips taut.  The smell of secondhand clove smoke seemed to crescendo again. 

 _“Actually, I_ ** _don’t_** _like;”_ Logan confessed. _“But it’s the only way I can clear things up.”_

 _“Let him tell us,”_ Michael called out from the other side of the cockpit. _“I’ll know if it’s accurate.”_

Logan turned his gaze toward Michael. _Are you gonna to try to twist this, or will you play it straight,_ he wondered silently _. Guess we’ll know everything we need to know about you in a minute._

All thought of leaving the cockpit abandoned, Lyle squeezed into a strategic corner, angling to try and watch all three of their faces at once. 

  
_“Fair enough. You want me to start just before I landed on ya?”_   


  
_“Yes.”_   


Logan caught the look in his eyes, almost daring him to make something up. _As if the truth weren’t strange enough - ok; let’s see what you do with it._

 _“OK. So I stumbled on Blackheart trying to take over this little cult that meets up on a rooftop near Tompkins Square. Fine - break up their little clubhouse meetin’, chase ‘em down the fire escape. Most of ‘em were easy enough to knock out - not a big group; must’ve been like eight of  ‘em. Finally, I get close enough to hurt Blackheart - fight had kinda spilled out onto the street by then -  and he tosses me like a rag doll backwards up the avenue.”_ he shrugged casually, subtly gauging their reactions. 

 _“I think I hit you from the side first - like mid-torso, “_ he continued.  _“Had arced high when he threw me; hit you with my back, which knocked you into the trash bags on the ground.”_

He paused for a moment, noticing the looks exchanged between Michael and Agent 3. _Can’t perceive any of them the same way now that I know what we look like - hard enough wrapping my head around being a temporary she; must go through a lotta of duct tape when he’s out there._

 _“Gotta say, I’m real sorry about landing on you like that. It was an accident, but still. . .”_ he began again, trying to clear the tension in his mind. 

Lyle turned his gaze away from Agent 3 and towards the door briefly. The clean scent of sweat  - _finally, Jen._

 _“So, anyway, I get up quickly,”_ he stated, picking up the narrative where he left off.  _“Kind of sprung up on hands, pushing me forward and up. Then he melon-balled me out of my skull and dropped me in here.”_

Agent 3 looked to Michael for his response, the only outward sign of her thoughts being the scented smokescreen streaming from her. 

 _“This sounds accurate,”_ he declared _. “He’d have to have been a powerful fiend to have thrown someone as heavy as you were so far.”_

 _“I’ve had worse,”_ Logan shrugged. _“Kind of used to it.”_

 _“You’re not expecting us to “get used to it”,  I trust?”_ Michael inquired.

 _“Hoping I’m long gone before that happens,”_ he answered. 

 _“Yes; let’s hope so,”_ Agent 3 said as she turned away from them both, her face an unreadable mask. _“We really should clear the room now for dream state,”_ she added, ushering them toward the door.

Charlene was already waiting for them in the hallway.

 _“Well, whatever I can do, let me know,”_ she offered. _“You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”_

Logan nodded his thanks, watching Jen slink behind them into the cockpit. He let Agent 3 lead them away from the cockpit, keeping one eye over his shoulder at the door, which hung ajar. He let her get a bit ahead of them before turning to address Lyle _._

  
_“Tail 3 for me, will ya? - need to see something.”_   


Lyle nodded, watching him take off down a sub-corridor not far away. _Won’t take long for her to notice - time to do what I do best._

 _“ So, I’m up next, right?”_ Lyle inquired of Agent 3, knowing the argument that would ensue. 

 _“Absolutely not,”_ she shot back, picking up her pace as she tried toshake him off. 

 _“Aw, come on! I’m due for it; you know that!”_ he whinged, suppressing the glee at his ingenuity. _Can keep this up for hours - just follow her around, see what she does while I complain incessantly._

 _“There’s too much at stake now, “_ she countered as she paused briefly, doing a head count quickly. Most of the others had drifted off into the outer recesses to rest up after the grueling evening. _Logan’s gone as well. . .  Probably followed Charlene down below._   She turned her steps toward the Library, confident she could shake Lyle quickly enough. 

 _“Yes, but that’s all the more reason I_ ** _should_** _be out there,”_ he retorted, in hot pursuit of her now.

Watching them from the niche in the corridor, Logan shook his head. _Well, that’s one way to do it._ He sat in silence, listening as their voices trailed off into the distance before doubling back to the cockpit. 

Slipping inside, he was struck by the sudden change in decor. In the center of the room sat the most diabolical dentists chair he’d ever seen. Jen was laid out in it, a narrow film visor over her eyes, encircling her head. He watched her in silence as she dreamed - her side of the dialogue the only clue of what the chair played out for her. She twisted and writhed in it - shrieking incoherently. Darting a glance through the cockpit door, wondering who would come to soothe her torment. 

The hall remained desolate. 

He felt his claws slide out of his wrists, his reflexes screaming to cut her free. _Don’t know what damage that’d do_ _to her - this ain’t the best place for a bit o’ slice and dice. Can’t just leave her like this. . . ._ retracting his claws, he inched closer to the chair, catching her hand in mid-flail. 

 _“Shhh. . . . it’s ok - it’s just a dream, “_ he whispered, leaning in as close to her ear as the visor would allow. 

She froze in the chair, her body stiffening even as her hand went limp in his. 

 _“Not gonna hurt ya, “_ he murmured. _“Don’t know what you’re seeing in there, kid, but this is your dream; you get to end it any way you want.”_

He felt her hand tighten around his - her only response to his presence as she fitfully shivered in the dreaming chair. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

Down in the Library, Lyle continued to pester Agent 3. 

  
  
_“Look, sooner or later you’re going to have to let me out.”_   


_“Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention, but right now we’re in an extremely compromised state, “_ Agent 3 glowered at him from where she sat at the catalog terminal. _“I’m not certain a full recovery is even possible as things stand. Letting you off the leash would be suicide.”_

 _“How can you say that?”_ he protested indignantly. _“You know how I am.”_ He leaned his hand on the table, carefully positioning himself so he could read the monitor. It took all his effort to stifle his rage at it’s contents. _3; what the fuck is_ ** _wrong_** _with you? Why would you subject her to That!_ It almost made him miss her reply. 

  
  
_“Yes, I know how you are - all too well. And I don’t think another brush with alcohol poisoning is in our best interests at the moment.”_   


Agent 3 paused as she finished her recriminations, carefully considering the safety of her next move. _This could backfire horribly. But I need all the information I can get; I can only hope he knows where his loyalties lie._

 _“I couldn’t help but notice Logan’s taken quite a shine to you,”_ she noted, still clicking away on the catalog computer.

 _“He’s all right,”_ Lyle shrugged.

 _“I have a proposition for you, then,”_ she offered. _“Keep tabs on him for me, and maybe I’ll let you out in the near future. Do we have a bargain?”_

He paused for a moment - _got to make the vicious cur think I’m thinking about it, at least._

  
_“How soon, exactly?”_   


_“Soon as the shoulder sets,”_ she answered, her voice trailing off as the status bar on the monitor caught her attention. 

 _“Strange - “_ she added. 

 _“Everything all right?”_ Lyle asked, barely concealing his snark. 

 _“The dream feed seems to be distorted,”_ she noted. _And there’s only one way that would occur. Oh, that meddlesome cretin!_ She kept the mask up , refusing to give Lyle the satisfaction. _“Ah well, never mind.”_

 _“Could always switch the tapes,”_ he suggested _. “It’s not like it matters, really.”_

 _“Yes; well someone has to maintain the status quo around here,”_ she hissed.

 _“Nah; time to ring in the new - I could pick one if you like,”_ Lyle grinned sardonically.

 _“You could, but you won’t.”_ Agent 3 responded coolly, drawing a pearl handled revolver from her own materia and firing on him. 

The shot hit him in mid-chest, knocking him far back against the shelves behind him on impact.  He scrambled back up, reaching into the wound to extract the bullet. 

 _“For fuck’s sake, what is_ ** _wrong_** _with you?”_ he yelled, manifesting defenses of his own.

 _“Don’t even try me; “_ Agent 3 glowered, rising from her seat to stare him down. _“You’ll disappear so fast no one will even remember your name.”_

Without so much as glancing at the computer, she logged herself out with one hand, the other still aiming at Lyle. _Time to go see what can be salvaged - I’ve spent too long fighting to keep us here to lose now._ Slowly she backed toward the corridor, still drawing on Lyle. 

 _“ I am what stands between you and oblivion - remember that,”_ shesneered at himfrom the doorway before turning down the hallway towards the cockpit. 

Lyle shook himself off, still a bit rattled. _She shot me - the cunt actually shot me!_ _Shit - Jen!_ He glanced around the Library frantically for an intercom,  calling one into existence next to the door frame. 

 _“Get out of the cockpit! Now!”_ he shouted into the speaker before racing up the corridor toward it himself. _She’s got too much of a lead on me - Oh god, Jen - I’m sorry._ He picked up his pace, hoping against hope that someone would be there for her this time. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

The sudden crackle of Lyle’s frantic voice in the cockpit stirred Logan. _No time to read the manual on this thing -_ pulling the visor from her head, he made quick work of the bindings on the chair. 

 _“Time to go,”_ Logan growled, throwing her over his shoulder. 

 _“Wait -  what’s happening?”_ Jen stammered weakly.

 _“Long story short  - Lyle blew it,”_ he fumed, trying to navigate his way down into the subconscious. _Gotta be somewhere I can hide in here._ The flickering of reflected candlelight glinted off the wall ahead of them. Cautiously he approached the corner, pleasantly surprised to see Allie standing before an open panel in the wall. 

 _“This way,”_ she chirped, beckoning them with the lantern in her hands. 

 _No time to argue;_ he dashed through the doorway, almost beyond caring where it led. Allie followed close behind, sealing it so the doorway was camouflaged once more. He found himself in a surrealist playground - the twilit landscape blending seamlessly with the play-sets. _No way of telling where one ends and the other begins. Reminds me of that park in Barcelona._ He lay Jen gingerly down on the slide, leaning himself against the tree beside it. Allie pulled up a rock before them, crawling up onto it , seating herself cross-legged. 

 _“She won’t look for you here,”_ Allie smiled beatifically _. “This is my safe place.”_

 _“Did something happen?”_ Jen croaked, struggling to sit up.

 _“Working on a theory. What were you dreaming?”_ Logan asked, one corner of his mind ravenous for a stogie. 

 _“Same thing I’ve been dreaming for the past year and a half,”_ she sighed, gazing over at Allie’s placid form. _“I don’t want to detail it for you now. . . . “_

  
_“The attacks?”_   


Jen nodded. 

 _“It’s bizarre - ever since I started the reintegration I’ve been having that dream every night,”_ she observed. _“I never used to remember them at all.”_

 _“She’s afraid,”_ Allie blurted, fidgeting with the bare toes peeking out from her lotus-folded legs.  _“She doesn’t know that we need to get lost to be found again.”_

Logan turned his attention to the child. Every sense told him she was the toddler she appeared to be.  _Easy to forget she’s not really that young until she opens her mouth. No way in hell that came out of  a kid._ Brushing aside his observations, his thoughts turned back to the situation at hand. 

  
  
_“What’ll happen now? Didn’t exactly hit auto pilot on my way out the door.”_   


_“The chair will just grab the next personality that comes near it,”_ Jen replied. _“Probably snag 3 when she goes to check up on me.”_

Logan shrugged. _She’d deserve it, probably._

  
_“Something botherin’ me, though. Back at the hospital, when the attack just kept replaying, the library monitor said you were the last one to access it. Why?”_   


_“That’s really messed up - it definitely wasn’t me!”_ Jen sputtered.  _“I’ve been preparing for a showdown with 3 for days, though should’ve waited until we were out of the hospital.”_

  
_“Who else has your codes?”_   


_“Didn’t think any of them did,”_ she replied. _“Agent 3 would be my first guess, though.”_

He grunted. _Obvious - maybe too obvious? This is startin’ to get on my nerves. One way or another she / they have to stay functional out there so I can get outta here. Really don’t want to get crushed in a personality avalanche._

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the solitary nightingale in the trees _._ Logan peered up into the branches for it, only half-surprised that it bore no resemblance to the actual bird.  _Like something out of a storybook. Everything here - landscape, people, all of it - just woven out of stuff she’s read. Somethin’ to keep in mind._

 _“Well; can’t hide in here forever, but for now it’ll work. You’ll both be safe here,”_ he observed as he pulled himself up.  _“Getting back here might take some doing, though.”_

 _“I show you!”_ Allie beamed, springing from her place on the stone. She reached up for his hand, merrily skipping down the path toward where the door had been. 

 _“I’m not s’posed to know how to use the ‘puters in the Liberry,”_ she said once they had gotten out of earshot. _“Agent 3 says it’s ‘cause they’re for grownups. But I can make it play things sometimes.”_

 _“Might need you to show me that soon, “_ he smiled. _“For now just stay safe in here, ok? I think Jen really needs someone to play with.”_

She nodded enthusiastically, pausing suddenly in front of a gnarled oak tree. Kneeling down between the roots of it, she plucked a single bluebell stem and handed it to him. 

  
  
_“Rub this on a wall with no door in it, and it opens up. But don’t lose it - don’t know if you have pockets.”_   


It dawned on him that he had no idea what they saw when they looked at him. _Willing to bet they all see me completely differently._  

 _“Hey - before I head on out there; what do you see when you look at me?”_ he inquired of Allie, who seemed suddenly distracted by a small flock of fireflies. 

 _“I c’n  show you,”_ she giggled as she pulled a long mirror out from the heart of the tree. 

Standing before it alone, he was greeted by a twisted, terrifying version of himself - his exaggerated claws curved viciously toward himself no matter how they were held. Every scar he’d ever endured seemed to manifest there - grown over like grave mounds with a thick coat of hair. He had the brown suit on - _my design; not the one given to me. The one Daken stole from me._ The reflection rippled as Allie moved to stand next to him before the mirror, the image altering itself before his eyes. Taller suddenly, she saw him dressed in an almost medieval style. The  claws -  still improbably long, but at least straightened now  - gleamed like fairy-tale armor. His face - a network of thin scars interlacing over the wolf-like muzzle - was set in a clear eyed, stoic expression. He concentrated on changing into something more casual. Slowly the reflection rippled again, the garish garb replaced by his preferred jeans and stained tank top. O _dd part is, the claws aren’t even out._ He carefully slipped the bluebell into the front pocket of his jeans. 

 _“Should be safe in there,”_ he declared. 

 _“’cept from Sasha,”_ Allie teased. 

 _“Don’t you worry about her,”_ he smirked down at her.  _“She’ll back off soon enough.”_

Allie let the mirror retract into the tree trunk, shaking her head at Logan’s mistaken assumption. She cracked the door open slowly, peering out into the corridor before swinging it wide enough to let him out. 

 _“I’ll be back soon, “_ he whispered before exiting. _“Stay safe.”_

The barely audible click of the door sealing behind him reassured him as he set off to find Lyle, praying he hadn’t gone to the cockpit on his own.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

Stephanie resisted the urge to check on Jen “one more time” after succumbing to the urge six previous times. Whatever nightmares she was having, she’d been powerless to prevent them so far; today would be no different. She let out a long, hissing sigh as she rested her head on her seventh mug of tea.

 _This new guy. . . . something’s just weird about him. It’s not just the paranoia, or the militance - can almost understand that - the whole insistence on having been someone else before is unsettling._ Nothing she’d read up to now even mentioned the concept. _Oh please don’t let this become something worse! Hard enough fighting the entire system to respect your wishes on treatment. If you start decompensating I don’t know what I’ll do._

In her sleep-deprived haze, she tried to recall the last time she’d actually seen Jen. She’d come home from work to find her sitting shell-shocked on the couch, staring at the blank TV. It was the first time she’d seen her like that since the age of twelve. _What’d she say? Something about they’re fighting back?_ It was right around when the nightmares started. 

The buzzer derailed her train of thought. Instinctually she reached for the “door” button before something made her pause. 

  
_What if he’s not paranoid?_   


Slowly she moved her hand over to the intercom button, trying not to feel like an idiot when James’ voice crackled back at her through the speakers. 

“How is she?” he asked when he finally made it up. Older elevators had their charms, but speed was not among them.

“She’s a mess, but at least she’s asleep,” she yawned after a quick hug. “Which I’m gonna be in a minute whether I lay down or not. Wake me in like an hour, hour and a half or I’ll never get back on schedule. Promised her I’d pick up her poetry.”

“No prob - brought the laptop, so good luck getting rid of me,”James smirked. “any instructions? Meds I should know about?”

“Trying to space out the pain killers as long as she can stand it, but I think they said every eight hours,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “The new guy’s a real charmer - doesn’t seem to like being on them. He’s a little scary.”

“Not to worry - I’ll talk him down if I have to.”

Stephanie smiled weakly at that before turning toward her room. 

“She took them around one thirty; shouldn’t need anything until. . . . a while.”

“I’m on it hon - get some rest,” he said, reading the prescription label on the bottle before ushering her in the direction of her room, following as far as Jen’s door. 

 _Poor kid,_ he ruminated, peeking through the crack in the doorway. _At least this you can recover from._

He watched her for a moment, concerned by her restless fidgeting as she slept. _Guess it’d give anyone nightmares._ She slowly quieted herself enough to ease his mind. He made his way back to the kitchen with a sigh, setting up the laptop for an evenings work. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

Lyle was not hard to track down - you only had to listen for the indignant screaming. Logan found him not far from the cockpit, clutching an impressive looking wound closed. 

 _“I can’t believe she shot me!”_ he howled. 

Logan rolled his eyes. _Amateur._ _Clearly putting the ‘Tell’  in intelligence gathering._

 _“All right  - quit whining and let me see it,”_ he snarled, pulling Lyle’s hand away.

It should have been a sucking chest wound. This was the first surprise under his long black trench coat. The lack of actual blood was a little disturbing to him. The wound didn’t go all the way through - the gouge where the bullet had eventually smashed against the inside of Lyle’s ribcage was clearly visible, though the slug itself was gone. It was huge, and it looked as if it had been pawed at by a chimp. _Kid has a knack for taking it from bad to worse._ More impressive, though was the fact that the kid was still managing to whine about it. 

 _“That feel as bad as it looks?”_ Logan inquired, looking around for something to seal it with.

 _“A little better with the slug out; that would have really fucked me up,”_ Lyle rolled the crumpled slug around in his fingers for a moment before handing it to him. 

  
  
_“She’s lost it, mate - if she’s actually willing to give up a sliver of herself to take me down, she’s got to be desperate.”_   


Logan examined the slug while Lyle raved. It didn’t resemble any actual bullet he’d ever seen. _Kid’s probably never been near an actual gun. Great._ Shoving it in his other front pocket, he grabbed a hold of a length of Lyle’s coat and cut it into an improvised bandage. 

 _“What the hell, man?”_ he whimpered as Logan slapped a large section of the patch over the gaping hole in his chest.

 _“What - you want me to leave you hanging open?”_ Logan shot back. _“It’s a gaping hole in your chest; if you don’t cover it nasty things happen. Put your hand here,”_ he pulled Lyle’s hand back around to the side of the wound, pressing his palm flat against the bandage. 

Lyle obeyed, griping as Logan did his best to secure it to his body. He watched in morbid fascination as his claws retracted back into his arm. 

  
  
_“Nice one; how’d you come up with those?”_   


_“Always had ‘em,”_ Logan shrugged, unsure how else to get the wrapping to stay put. _“You got any tape on ya?”_

 _“Well, I_ ** _was_** _gonna try to re-form that, but yeah, tape - brilliant. . . “_ he quipped.

 _“You could’ve said so, damn it,”_ he snapped, pulling his hands away. _“Now what the hell happened?”_

 _“OK; so I followed her down to the Library; “_ he began, the smell of whiskey rising from him like mist. _“She starts logging in to the play list for the dream catalogue, and she loads up the attack footage. I mean that is just sick, man. Coming from me, that’s saying something. She asks me to keep tabs on you, so I play along, right? But then the feed starts distorting, right? So I tell her she should switch it out, and then she shot me!  Threatened to absorb me, she did.”_

 _“Did you see which ID she signed in with?”_ he asked, trying to connect the dots.

 _“Pretty sure it was her own - want me to go back and have a look?”_ Lyle offered mockingly. 

  
  
_“I think you should lay low and leave this to a pro like me, but I know you won’t.”_   


_“Seriously - what the hell are you? Some kind of super-spy or something? “_ Lyle asked, finally managing to prop himself up against the wall.  _“ ‘cos I can safely say you are the scariest person I’ve ever met.”_

 _“Be glad I’m on your side, bub,”_ he retorted, taking the bullet out to examine it once more. _“You able to get to somewhere you can lay low?”_

  
_“I think I could use a hand, actually. Besides, you haven’t told me what you found.”_   


_Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,_ Logan fumed silently. _Not after that fiasco. Still, gotta feed him something._

 _“I snuck back into the cockpit to check on Jen,”_ he began finally.

A pained expression crawled across Lyle’s face. It had nothing to do with his wound.

 _“You knew?”_ he asked, the barbed accusation clear in his tone.

 _“Never knew the details - 3 threatened to seal up and reabsorb anyone  who interfered,”_ Lyle croaked, his head falling to his chest. _“I had no idea she’d go this far! I mean the whole reason we exist is to help Jen cope, right? It’s a complete fucking betrayal of why we’re here!”_

Lyle was weeping openly now, his fists slamming into the floor.

 _“Let’s take this somewhere quiet. I think I need to know a lot more about this mess,”_ he suggested, pulling Lyle to his feet.  _“Just point.”_

He gestured weakly to the wall across the corridor, fumbling in what remained of his coat for his key. Waving it vaguely in the direction of the bend in the hall,  he opened the doorway to his sanctum. 

 _“Come on, then; I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink,”_ Lyle offered, shambling toward it. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

Stephanie picked her way through the maddening crowd as she surfaced from the Second Avenue L station. _This is where Sasha goes to hang out?_ She’d never really thought to keep tabs on the personalities’ activities before, but that was before they’d let her sister get hurt. _Things are going to have to change; clearly they can’t keep her safe._ She paused for a moment to get her bearings, trying not to step in the tiny, unidentified stream coming from near the building. _The barmaid said walk toward the power plant - ah; got it!_ She sauntered down 14th Street toward Avenue A, the sun slowly sinking behind her. 

Somehow, she expected it to be larger, in keeping with the tall tales Sasha related to her about the goings on there. The old-fashioned blue painted window frames hung open, letting what little fresh air and light made it to the street into the well-used room. A small garden bench was already out front, along with a deep dish of water for passing dogs. _This has to be the place._ She stepped inside, unsure of what to expect.

A random assortment of couches seemed to congregate in the corners, a scattering of small tables and chairs keeping them company in the oddly welcoming gloom. Two unmarked doors stood vigil on either side of the pinball machine, which vied with the jukebox to be the primary light source at the back end of the bar. There were already a handful of folks leaning on the bar having a lively discussion about the upcoming World Cup - _Is that soccer? I don’t even know. . . ._ She barely noticed the quiet young man at the table next to the pillar until she had passed him. _Is he even of age?_ She shrugged it off - _They must know what they’re doing; probably older than he looks._ She sidled up behind the group, waiting for a pause in the conversation. 

“What can I get you?” the bartender inquired with a smile. 

“Hi - I had called earlier about a bag left here last night?” she replied. 

“Oh yes - Sasha’s sister.  It’s in the back,” he answered, noticing her shudder at the name.  “ We’re all really upset about what happened. Is she going to be all right?”

“Well, she’s in pretty bad shape, but at least she’s home,” Stephanie related, easing herself off of the stool and into the quiet guy who had slipped behind her.  “Oh - sorry - didn’t even see you there.”

“It’s ok - happens all the time;” he waved off her apology. “Are you really her sister?”

She looked the kid over  - _nope - still doesn’t look old enough. Barely taller than the high table he’d been sitting at_. His dark chestnut hair hung in even length bob-cut waves, the bangs of which split haphazardly over his forehead. He was not bad looking; but naiveté hung on him like an albatross.  He looked up at her with glistening brown eyes. 

“Yes, Jen - um, Sasha is my sister,” she answered. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Oh, sorry - it’s Jeremy,” he blushed. “I know Sasha from the clubs, but sometimes I see her here. Does she need anything?”

“Well, not really,”Stephanie sighed. “She’s probably not going to be up to coming out for a while, so it’d be nice if everyone wrote to her.” 

“Oh, I don’t actually have her email,” he frowned. “I could give you mine, though. And you could pass it to her.”

“Um, okay, sure,” Stephanie smiled awkwardly. 

He hurriedly dashed over to the postcard rack that hung in the pinball machine’s alcove, agonizing over which of the ads would at least not get trashed outright. Stephanie watched in morbid fascination. _Oh the poor kid! He has no idea what he’s getting himself into, does he?_ She shook her head in silence as he frantically scrawled all of his contact info onto the back of a Taittinger postcard. She half expected him to need another card. 

“Okay - any of these should work.”

“Great - I’ll get that to her,” she responded, her mind boggling at the nearly indecipherable scrawl on the card. 

She looked down at his eager puppy dog eyes, the tender fantasies spinning in his mind almost visible there, and bit her lip.  _I really don’t want to wreck this for her, but he’s got to be warned, at least._

“I’m not sure how well you know my sister, but I have to tell you. She can be really umm. . . . . difficult to understand sometimes,” she explained haltingly. “I mean, I love her and all, but she’s a very complicated person. She can be really hard to read.”

“Okay.”

 _Well, I tried - any further and it’ll be taken as trying to keep them apart,_ she consoled herself. _If I’ve learned anything by now, it’s that nothing is more attractive than what you aren’t allowed._

“Anyway, I’ll give this to her when she wakes up.”

“Do you have a few minutes? I can run to the bodega and pick up some flowers.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet; I’m just afraid they’ll get mangled on the train home,” she demurred.  _Oh god, please no; I don’t do matchmaking!_

“Oh, ok,” he sulked. 

“Maybe when she comes back out - I’m sure she’d love that.”

“I guess just tell her to get well soon, and if she needs anything she can let me know,” he sighed. 

“I will.”

She tried to hide her relief as he left, turning back toward the bartender. 

“I think I could use a drink after that.”

“You came to the right place, then,” he smiled. “Name it.”

“Any light beer?”

“Sorry, not here,” he chuckled. “You could try the hefeweizen.”

She shrugged as she began to dig for her wallet.

“Please,” he waved her off as he reached for the taps. “It’s on me.”

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled. 

“We’re all really upset about what happened to your sister. Here - take your time over this,” he said, handing her a pale, cloudy pint glass crowned with a slice of lemon. “She should be back soon; I know she wanted to talk to you about setting up some sort of benefit if you needed to.”

“Oh wow - that’s really sweet. I’m in no shape to handle the logistics right now, though.”

“Totally understand that,” he replied. “But she’d be mad if I let you go home before she got to talk to you, at least.”

Stephanie nodded, taking her first sip of the beer. It surprised her - light tasting, almost sweet, but most definitely a beer. Not overwhelmingly hoppy and bitter. She caught the bartender watching her reactions, and smiled her approval.

“Welcome to the world of real beer,” he grinned. 

“Is this what she normally drinks?”

“It varies - sometimes this, sometimes G&T. Whiskey once in a blue moon, but not too often,” he observed. “We  all just kind of know it’s going to be a wild one when she starts with whiskey.”

She sighed and nodded, taking a long draught of her beer as she recognized the personality markers.

“Was wondering - has anyone heard anything about the guy that landed on her?” she inquired, changing the subject. “No one seems to know who he is or where he wound up.”

“Well, I wasn’t on last night, but I did hear something about one of the ambulances getting a flat,” he recounted. “And Jorge told me earlier he swears he saw someone bent over the tire just before, but  he can be a little jumpy.”

Stephanie’s eyebrows raised at this. _Could the new guy really be onto something?_

“Will he be by later?”

“Nah; Fridays he gets his coffee and football scores here and works nights. His schedule is a bit erratic, but he’s never here on Friday nights.”

“Damn. Would’ve liked to ask him about it.”

“Usually here on Tuesdays,” he mused. “Probably better to ask him in person. He’s a little mistrusting sometimes.”

“Oh, I can relate to that,” she nodded. “Not sure I’d want to get weird questions from a stranger either.”

The bartender nodded, checking on the other customers while she finished her beer. The evening regulars began trickling in slowly. Word about last nights incident had already made the rounds online, apparently - a few of them stood outside the bar, trying to mentally reconstruct how it had happened. 

“Not sure if any of the folks out front were here last night, but they are long-time regulars, so they might know what happened to the guy,” he suggested before getting back to pouring a round for the new arrivals.

“Great, thanks,”she smiled, sliding her tip across the bar. 

She hefted Sasha’s poetry satchel over her shoulder, making her way into the thicket of people hovering out front.

The bartender shook his head. _Off to a weird start, and it isn’t even six yet. That’s got to be a record. Nothing you can do - just keep pouring and hope it all washes away._

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

Logan straddled a chair across from the chaise Lyle had stretched out on, still waiting for some answers. 

 _“OK - how’d all this start?”_ he inquired impatiently. 

 _“3’s been power-mad from the start,”_ Lyle began, propping himself up in the chaise. _“It used to be we’d all just come out when we were triggered and not give it a second thought. This is going back years, now. There used to be loads of us then. There were like twenty of us before they started disappearing.”_

Lyle paused to catch his breath, letting the frayed remains of his coat absorb back into the hole in his torso. 

Logan watched as it liquefied into an almost plasma-like state, pouring itself into the crater in his torso. _Never put much stock in the old saying ‘clothes make the man’ before now._

 _“What do you mean, disappearing?”_ he queried, turning his attention back to the subject at hand. 

 _“Well I say disappear; I should say reabsorbed ,”_ Lyle explained. _“One day they were here, then one by one they weren’t. About four years ago Jen started talking about wanting to take back her life and reintegrate us all into herself. It did not sit well with 3. So when some of us began to disappear, 3 starts taking emergency control saying she’d try and save whoever she can. All I know is it didn’t actually stop anyone from disappearing.”_

He paused again, peering down at the ring-shaped scar on his chest where the wound had been. _It’ll do; it’s not like I was perfect to start with._

 _“So one night - a little over a year ago - I follow Jen to see what’s going on.  I see her talking to Toby, and Toby actually agrees to be reabsorbed. So he goes off toward the library to sign out his tapes and turn them over to Jen, but he runs into 3 there, and she just. . . . swallowed him.”_ Lyle shuddered at the memory. _“I think she and Jen actually came to blows after that, ‘cos Jen was shambling around all mangled for a while. Took her ages to patch herself up again. That’s about when 3 started controlling the dreaming chair.”_

Logan listened, silently compiling it all. _Not even sure where to begin - This was a mess before I got here, will probably be a mess after I leave no matter what. Just gotta figure out how to tip the scales back in Jen’s favor._

 _“You’ve seen it, right? The way she keeps everyone on a short leash,”_ Lyle ranted on. _“I’ll admit, I like existing, but if Jen is ready to pull us back in, then it’s time to go. 3 keeps her on the ropes any way she can. And I can’t get near Jen without her getting hurt.”_

 _“What about the others?”_ Logan asked pointedly. _“What’s their take on it?”_

  
_“I’ve no idea - it’s not like we chit-chat around the water cooler.”_   


  
_“Start.”_   


_“Yeah - not as simple as that, “_ Lyle spat in frustration. _“Not sure how it works where you’re from, but here we leave each other alone. Not sure what 3 did that made her talk to the rest of us, but as a rule, we just don’t.”_

 _“Yeah - and don’t 3 know it. Counting on it, I’d bet,”_ Logan sneered. _“It’s gonna be a while still before Jen’s ready to step up, but when she is, she’s gonna need help; and it’s got to be a full-on coordinated strike, or this is just pissin’ in the wind.”_

Lyle squinted up at him quizzically, trying to wrap his head around it all. Exhaustion was definitely getting the better of him. He could feel his eyes closing even as his thoughts grappled with the concept.

  
  
_“Get some rest - I’ll let myself out.”_   


_“Take a matchbook - it’ll get you back in,”_ Lyle coughed groggily. _“Leave the slug - we’ll need it later”_

Logan nodded, making his way to the bar at the other end of the room. A large fishbowl of matchbooks sat beside the taps. He placed the slug on the bar next to it before fishing one out. _Can tell the kid is still awake  - reflection doesn’t look like me yet._ The image in the mirror over the bar wore a fedora and bore a striking resemblance to Jason Statham. _The suit’s a bit much. Where the hell does he get these ideas?_ He closed his eyes, shook his head, and headed for the door.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * 

 _Something’s wrong - He should be back by now,_ Domino ruminated,  the monitors on the desk flickering the positions of the various ships surrounding Utopia. No one had heard from him since they had evac’ed from the UN. True - prompt was not a concept Logan seemed to get the hang of, but with so much on the line, he’d at least have called it in if something came up. _Cyc’ll never let either of us hear the end of it if he doesn’t turn up soon._  

 _Meanwhile, there’s work to do._ She leaned back in the chair, steepling her hands on her lips. _Keep things running smoothly until I either hear from him - or about him. Like Always. Don’t want to raise eyebrows by telling the Cuckoos to look for both him_ ** _and_** _X-23. Hard enough with one of them missing; both is a major pain in the ass._

She ran through the rest of the head count in her mind. _Angel and Warpath are here. Wolfsbane is. . . . somewhere. Must be a really hot date. Elixir is going to be out of it for a while after everything that went down in New York._

  
  
_Damnit, Wolverine - why couldn’t you just catch a lift with the rest of us? At least the Leper Queen is dead. It’s what’s waiting for us next that’s got me worried. If Trask gets his way, we’re going to need everyone to take down whatever he cooks up this time. And with so many of us here, it makes it easier for them to take us out.  It’s not like they’ll need to scatter their forces. Letting this turn into a siege would be the worst mistake ever. So, make sure it doesn’t. For that, I’ll need more intel. . . ._   


*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

 _I can see why she likes the place,_ Stephanie mused as she stepped out into the night air. _Definitely make you feel at home._ She glanced about her at the throngs of people hanging around along the avenue. _Any one of them might have seen something. Wonder if it would pay to set up an email address and put up posters?_ She took a moment to familiarize herself with her surroundings. _Would anyone even have_ ** _noticed_** _someone being thrown around here?_ A small crowd had gathered on the diagonal corner, one of them gesticulating wildly in the direction of the bar. Curious, she made her way through the gridlocked traffic toward them. 

“An’ the other guy, he jus’ dropped him like garbage. An’ then he jus’ disappeared - Poof - gone!” The kid concluded his recounting just as she walked up, running his hands through his wavy black hair to emphasize his astonishment. 

“Are you talking about what happened last night?” Stephanie blurted. 

A tense momentary silence descended over the group while they scrutinized her. “What’s it to you?”

“She’s my sister.”

The collective gasped an “Oh shit” virtually in unison: heads shaking, hands quickly covering mouths; aghast. 

“Oh shit - Lo siento; I’m so sorry, “ the storyteller exclaimed, his dark almond eyes widening. As young as he was, he knew her suffering already - all too well. 

“No, it’s ok,” Stephanie politely brushed it off. “But anything you can tell me about what happened would really help.”

“Ummmm. . . I can only tell you what my cousin tol’ me,” he admitted bashfully.

“It’s more than I’ve heard so far,” Stephanie reassured him. “The cops don’t even know where the ambulance took the guy.”

“Tha’s bullshit, man,” a voice rose above the murmuring klatch. “Gotta be coverin’ up for somethin’.”

“Ok, here’s what my cousin told me. The one guy came flying from down the block like he was thrown from up high. Then this guy  - tall, really scary; like, not human scary - jus’ kinda appears near him. The thrown guy  - the one that landed on your sister - he gets up and gets in the guys face, but he jus’ grabs him and then it’s lights out.”

“What did they look like?”

“I don’t know  - “ the kid shrugged. “Like I said, my cousin saw it. I’m jus’ tellin’ it.”

“Ok, right,” Stephanie played along. “Do me a favor; does your cousin have email?” She began digging the postcard out of her purse and tearing off an unsullied piece to hand to the kid.

“Yeah.”

“Tell him I’d love to hear his version, and give him this.” She hastily scrawled her email onto the scrap of postcard and handed it to him. 

“Yeah, ok - but his girlfriend gets real jealous.”

“Trust me, she’s got nothing to fear from me. If it’ll make her feel better, I’ll send her copies. I just want to find the guy, y’know?”

“I feel you,” the kid nodded sympathetically. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” she sighed, straining to hold back a yawn. ”I’d better get back; she’s probably awake by now.”

The kid just nodded as she turned to go, eyeing the address warily. 

She made her way back toward the subway. _Hope that wasn’t a mistake. At least it’s not my work address._

Even if she hadn’t been lost in her own thoughts and exhaustion, she would not have recognized the man following her. As soon as he thought he had a clear shot, he clicked the side of the phone, surprising himself with the flash.

“Got it?” he inquired.

“Amazingly, yes,” the voice in his headset crackled. “Now can we get the hell out of here before you blow it? Besides, we’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

“Gee, thanks,” Druid sneered, putting entirely too much effort into melting into the crowd.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Logan’s meanderings took him past the cockpit. _Should see who the chair caught._ Slowly he cracked the door open, peering into a chamber lit only by the flashing warning signals on the monitor. _Shit - now what?_ He swung open the door, stepping in to investigate. 

Agent 3 was still stirring fitfully in the chair. The control panel rose up before him as the chair slowly loosened it’s grip on her. Glancing over warily, he laid his hands on the panel and found himself awake, in agony, and desperately needing to pee. The sound of intermittent typing echoing from somewhere in the apartment caught his attention, though it had to compete with the sharp and throbbing abdominal pain that seemed  to come out of nowhere. _Now what?. . . ._ Struggling to pull himself up, he shuffled toward the bathroom, troubled by the sudden dampness between their legs. 

“Hey kiddo. You need a hand?”

The male voice calling from the living room startled him, instinctively bracing for a fight until the pain and bandaging intervened. 

“Easy - it’s me, Jimmy,” he said reassuringly as he made his way over from the couch. 

Logan stated at him blankly through Jen’s eyes - _Oh; right. James. Cousin._ He took a moment to look him over.The tall, brawny blond had the look of a surfer long retired. _It won’t be much of one, but at least he’d put up a fight if the shit hit the fan._  

“Right. James,” Logan croaked, slumping against the wall. “Thought you’d be Steph.”

“You ok?” James asked, rushing forward to help them up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan waved him off. “Just don’t remember getting shot in the guts.”

James took a half-step back at that, going pale as his eyebrows shot up. Looking his cousin over, he saw the thin stream of blood trickling down her leg. 

“Where the hell is your sister,” James sighed, gingerly leading them into the bathroom.  “Just gonna set you down here - do what you gotta do, while I go get your pills.”

Logan nodded, fitfully pulling at the nightdress with their good hand. _Why the hell is he sitting me down for this?_ The memory of last night’s awkward discovery drifted back into focus. 

  
  
_Oh._   


Settling down on the padded seat, the pressure on their bladder, though overwhelming, just would not release. He glanced up at James, who was already half-way out the door. 

“Shut the door.”

He was only too happy to comply. Hearing his footsteps dash off toward the kitchen, Logan sighed in exasperation as their shy bladder relaxed and released at last. 

The muffled jangling of keys brought with it the promise of relief. James made a bee-line for the entryway. 

“Oh thank god,” he gasped. “She’s in the can. She’s umm. . . . well, aunt flo is here.”

Stephanie just shook her head and rolled her eyes. _Never a dull moment. . . ._

 _“_ Did you catch a name?” she inquired, dropping the backpack beside the door. 

“No - pretty sure it’s one of the guys, though.”

Stephanie held her face in her hands and sighed. _This isn’t going to be easy. The excuses they come up with. . . . . fascinating. At least Michael doesn’t mistake the tampons for toys. . . ._

“How’d they rationalize it?”

“He thinks he’s been shot.” 

“Gotta be Logan,” she deduced. “Stay close - I have no idea how this is going to play out. “

After a quick ransacking of Jen’s room, Stephanie knocked gently on the bathroom door. 

“Sweetie, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“It’s kind of a mess,” Logan groaned. 

“I know; it’s okay,” Steph sighed, trying to reassure her through the door. “I’ve got your pills and some stuff here to help with that. So I’m just going to come in, ok?”

“Not stoppin’ ya.”

 _I really don’t need this. . . ._ Stephanie rolled her eyes , unsure of what to expect. _At least she’ll be easier to restrain._

Her sister sat quietly on the bowl, prodding awkwardly at her own abdomen, seeming only mildly disturbed. 

“I can’t find the slug, ” Logan croaked, barely looking up. 

“Probably because there isn’t one,” Steph stifled a smile as she placed the medicine on the edge of the sink.  “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

“Don’t take me back there,” he growled, staring up at her intently. 

“Trust me; you’d get laughed out of the ER,” she quipped, lifting the bloodstained nightdress off her sister.  

“It’s just going to be like this for a couple of days,” She explained as she swabbed her down.  “So until it stops, I got you these.”

  
  
  
Logan eyed the plastic package in her hands with panic-driven dread. He tried to  recall how many times in his life he’d made exactly this joke about any of his team-mates, any of his enemies. Somewhere in the thousands he gave up. _So this is hell. . . ._

“It can’t take that long - you’d bleed to death in a few hours.”

“We’re not doing the crash course in biology right now,” Stephanie snapped. “Trust me; been through this every month for the past ten years. If we’re lucky, it won’t take out the whole week.”

“Like I have time for this,” Logan grumbled. 

“Oh, believe me; I know,” 

“There’s got to be a way to stop this.”

“Good luck with that, “ Stephanie snorted. 

Logan swallowed hard, looking for a way around this. 

“Waiting it out here ain’t an option, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, no.  It’s our only toilet, and I’ve been holding it in since I got on the 7.”

Something about their long, pensive silence troubled her. It had always been difficult to get the male personalities through this part, rare as it was. Most of the time they seemed to stay dormant through it, but there had been a few memorable ones.  _Usually just go along with whatever cover story they concoct, but adding pretend injuries to existing ones is just begging for trouble._

“It’s just so. . . . “ they began finally. 

“Girly?” Steph volunteered. 

Logan/Jen nodded. 

“I get that. Really, I do. But of the alternatives, this is the easiest and probably the least demoralizing.  I could send Steve out for some adult diapers,” she offered cheerfully, banking on their response.  

“Fuck no!” both Steve and Logan howled. 

“Yeah, thought as much. Kind of overkill, anyway. You couldn’t pay me to try and get tampons into you,  so that just leaves us with this.”

Logan glowered at her, silently steeling himself for what needed to be done.  _If we time this right, no one ever needs to know. . . . not even whoever gets me outta here._

  
_Who_   
**  
_are_   
**   
_we calling for that, anyway?_   


He mentally ran down the list in an effort to distract himself from the task at hand. 

“Alright, help me up, “ he muttered.

Stephanie positioned herself in front of Jen, the prepared underwear swinging from her arm as she tried to figure out how to do this without anyone getting hurt - or in her sister’s case, hurt more. 

“Okay, here’s how we do this,” she finally decreed after some consideration. “I’ll bend over. Put your good hand on my back and push up from there. Then step into them. Got it?”

Logan nodded.  _Was it always this complicated for them? How the hell do the get anything done?_ Tentatively stretching out, he made their body do as she instructed. Still, nothing could have prepared him for her pulling them up on him. The swiftness of the motion and the sensation of something soft and thick wedging itself awkwardly into place set off his reflexes, and he tried to back away - succeeding only in slamming against the back of the toilet. 

“Careful!” Steph shouted, reaching out instinctively to steady her. “Is it centered?” 

“How the hell should I know?” he shot back. 

Exasperation getting the better of her, Stephanie stepped back to see for herself.  _Couldn’t it at least have waited until your arm was better, damnit?_

“It looks like it’s too far back - see if you can pull it up in front.”

Fumbling with the sticky oblong wad, Logan tried in vain to pull it forward without giving themselves a wedgie. This proved impossible to do single handed. The slight scrape of the fiber against their crotch - this most irrefutable evidence that he was definitely not the man he used to be - scratching on his psyche like nails on a chalkboard.   _Snap out of it! This ain’t permanent. One way or another, we’re gettin’ outta here._

After watching her struggle with it for a few minutes, Steph realized there was no alternative. Rolling her eyes, she pulled at the fabric of the underwear, freeing the pad just enough for her sister to move it into place. 

“Got it?”

Logan just nodded, still wrestling with his own thoughts.

“Good,” she said flatly.. “I’ll be so glad when this is over.”

“You and me both,” Logan mumbled quietly. 

“Ok; now scoot - “ she said, after pulling the new night dress down on her. “The sooner I finish in here, the sooner I can figure out dinner,” Steph ordered, her mood brightening now that the worst was over with.

Logan nodded, shuffling for the door to leave her in peace. Before he cleared the sink, Steph stopped them. 

“You really, really want to wash your hand after that,” she urged. “Trust me.”

She turned the faucet on, her eyebrow arced. 

Logan shook their head; _some habits just never stick. Have to work on that - at least for now. Kid’s messed up enough without me getting her sick._ He stuck their hands into the lukewarm stream, rubbing the raspberry scented soap into a lather. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

“Dinner” consisted of leftover takeout from five different points on the globe, microwaved to within an inch of immolation. Logan coaxed every detail of her excursion out of Stephanie - who asked after them? Were there any witnesses? Was she followed?

“No one followed me. Sheesh,” Stephanie assured them, rolling her eyes.  “It’s not like anyone there knew who I was, or cared, even. Well, except one guy. . . “

Logan/Jen straightened at that. _Clue? Threat? Either way, it’s one step closer to getting out of here._

“You get a name?”

“Got more than that,” Steph grinned. “Kid was falling all over himself to give me every single email, phone number or online address he has. He’s really quite taken with you. . . .”

Logan spat the half-chewed remnants of their momos with a violent cough. 

Stephanie chuckled as she reached over for the paper towels. _Sometimes it’s just too easy. The best way to get to know them is to find their buttons  and see what happens._

“No. Just Fucking No.” Logan  stated, with a chill in their voice. 

“Aw, come on. He’s a sweet kid. You two might be cute together,” she teased. 

Logan slammed his fist on the table, startling Steph and James into silence. 

“Look. I don’t know what the others get up to. Frankly I don’t care.  But I’m not into guys. Not now - not ever. Understand?”

Steph nodded silently, grabbing James’ leg under the table. He returned her terrified gaze with one of his own, unsure of what else to do. 

Logan flexed their now throbbing hand before settling back down to their meal. It continued to tremble as the adrenaline from their outburst coursed through their system.  _Damnit, can’t do_ ** _anything_** _with this body! If this is what an argument does to her, she’s not gonna be able to handle it if it gets really ugly._ Giving up on being able to hold the flatware, Logan finished the rest of the meal with his fingers. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Stephanie hovered in the doorway of Jen’s room, watching her sister sleep. _Are you still in there, sis? And if Logan isn’t one of your creations, then who - or what - is he?_ James emerged from cleaning up the kitchen, wiping his hands on his shirt tails. 

“You did catch that? I wasn’t hearing things, right?” she asked nervously. 

James nodded gravely. 

“She’s never done that before. “

“Probably not a good idea to goad this one,” he muttered.  “Just really volatile.”

“Oh, that - no; that’s nothing,” she retorted. “I kind of expected that. She doesn’t speak about the others like that. Ever. What the fuck’s going on in there?”

“ Wish I could tell you,” he answered, putting his arm around her shoulder. “She pretty much slept all day, so I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to her. “

They stood in silence for a time, both lost at different ends of the labyrinth of thought.

“Are you going in tomorrow?” James finally asked. “I just need to pick up some stuff and feed the cat. I can be back before seven if you need me to.”

“I hate to do it, but yeah. I’ll set up the couch for you,” Stephanie yawned. “Get back as fast as you can. Her keys are in the bag - I’m going to catch some sleep while I can.”

James nodded, gamely squatting down next to the knapsack propping open Jen’s door.  It took no small amount of digging to bring them to the surface. Hastily cramming most of it back in, he left the postcard poking out of the now impossible to close compartment. 

“While I’m out, need anything?”

“Nothing I can think of, except maybe pads. I’ll get those tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he sighed in relief. “I’ll get back as soon as the MTA lets me. Don’t worry about the couch -  it’s fine as it is.”

Stephanie smiled weakly, grateful for the reprieve. 

“See you in the morning.”

The solid thud of the apartment door closing barely registered with her as she watched Jen sleep. _Just tell me what to do, Sis. . . . .a sign; something._ After a time she finally turned away, letting sleep overtake her at last. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> & now Logan has to figure out a way home.. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as before, I claim no ownership of the Marvel characters.

Agent 3 was not thrilled. 

Logan knew this - not so much by her taut, mirthless expression, nor by the letter opener she tossed casually from one hand to the other, deciding which one she preferred to stab him with.  The sheer volume of smoke filling the cockpit sort of gave it away. 

 _“Rough night?”_ he asked flippantly. 

 _“Funny enough, yes,”_ she hissed. _“Steps will be taken to keep you from involving yourself unnecessarily.”_

 _“You gonna try to absorb me? ‘cause things nastier than you have tried, and I just don’t stay down,”_ Logan snarled. 

 _“Oh no, I don’t think so,”_ she purred. _“Frankly you have no business being here, much less involving yourself in our affairs. In the morning, I will personally seek out a way to have you purged from our midst. Meanwhile, since you seemed so eager to remove Jen from the dreaming chair, it’s only fitting you take her place in it.”_

 _“That all?”_ he spat. _“’ We both know that ain’t gonna  keep me outta your hair for long.”_

 _“ I doubt you’ll last an hour,”_ she smirked as the chair rose up beneath him.

Logan leapt from it easily, glowering defiantly up at Agent 3. 

_“Uh -uh. You want me down, you’re gonna have to put me down yourself.”_

Agent 3 took a step closer, her grip on the letter opener tightening. _“As you like,”_ she chirped acidly before lunging at him. 

He caught her hand easily enough, immobilizing it at the wrist. The blade clattered to the floor even as her knee came up into his groin. Reflexively he lashed out with a cross punch to her mid-section before the pain really took hold of him. The force of the blow sent her reeling out of his grasp. 

The rage was straining to cut loose already, brought to boil by the pain. _Gotta keep it in check; don’t know what would happen if she died._

 _“Bad move,”_ he rasped, slowly trying to pulling himself back up.

In no mood to take advice, 3 pulled herself back up,  coming at him again. Taking hold of his hair, she slammed his face into her raised knee, which promptly shattered. 

Logan angled up , hitting her chin with a calculated head butt, which tossed her back against the wall. 

 _“What the fuck are you?”_ she shrieked, still huddled against it as she tried reconstitute herself. 

 _“More than you can handle,”_ he retorted, finally managing to pull himself up. Still off-kilter, he staggered forward, standing over her. 

Desperate now, she pulled the gun, aiming it shakily between his eyes. 

Logan bared his claws, slashing angrily at the gun. Its shredded remains hit the ground in a spray of shrapnel as she gasped in terrified shock. 

 _“You done?”_ he snarled, grabbing her face in his hand. 

Panic-filled fury glinted back at him through Agent 3’s eyes. The floor beneath him tilted sharply; suddenly, knocking him back toward the chair. It quickly morphed into a tiger trap - the floor sinking deeper into the hole beneath him.  He dug his claws into the walls, pulling himself back up toward her when the massive jolt of electricity repulsed him.  He landed awkwardly, sprawled across the dreaming chair. A thick black adhesive film began to ooze out from it, slowly coating him. 

She peered over the edge of the pit, watching with grim pleasure as the dreaming chair entombed him. His hampered flailing continued for some time before it finally ceased, and the creeping ichor sealed itself over his eyes. 

Satisfied, she sealed the pit with a thick glass floor, a close-cropped berber carpet sprouting slowly over it to complete the concealment. Drained, she stumbled back toward the library, exhaustion making further alteration impossible. 

The fluid had sealed over his nostrils, stifling him as he lay there, desperate to breathe. His claws were mired  - half in, half out - their usual passage out of his hands jammed. His every movement restricted by the thick gum, holding him fast to the chair - to himself.  _Worse than duct tape._ The hum of a drill motor came from somewhere near his face, solidifying into a light tickling buzz against his nostrils. The video feed was beginning, flickering before his unblinking eyes.  The images distorted, caught half way through their metamorphosis from Jen to himself.  He could feel the third generation of hair growth pulling away as he writhed within the perpetually sticky sheath the chair had generated. Terror superimposed over nightmare, he felt the fluid surge forward into his nostrils again, inching inward almost imperceptibly. It drew back suddenly, pulled violently into the mask that attached itself over his face.  He could already tell the plot - knew every counter move that would maneuver them out of what was about to happen. No amount of shouting, pulling, or railing could turn them away. _This is memory; no way to re-write it. No way to escape it._

The feed began to warp again, the figures rippling into caricatures before frolicking off into the animated landscape. 

 _“It’s ok; 3 went to bed,”_ Allies’ voice echoed over the dream feed soundtrack. 

He tried to respond, but the glue held him fast, muzzling him. 

 _“One sec - the controls got weird.”_ she simpered. 

The cartoon pastiche continued in the interim, the colorful figures trying to engage him in their sing-along. Logan rolled his eyes, unable to do much else. _Beats the alternative, but not by much._

Slowly the ichor began to loosen its hold, receding back into the chair. Bolting upright, he yanked the mask from his face, bracing for a fight. The stillness of the empty room did little to soothe him. Overhead, he could hear the footsteps of someone entering the cockpit. Not surprisingly, there were no doors to be found. He knocked on the walls, looking for the best place to start digging his way out. 

_Solid._

He leaned against the wall of his oubliette, considering his options. _Don’t know how closely she’s watching. Or if she’ll be able to track me down if I use the keys. Play it safe._

He dug the matchbook out of his pocket and held it to the wall. A doorway slid open with a groan, and he found himself in Lyle’s bar once again. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Up in the cockpit, Sasha was preparing to wake up. The mild haze of the painkillers made things more bearable, even if it did muddle her thinking. _At least there’s not much to fear here at home._ She tenderly caressed the control panel, awakening to the sound of Stephanie preparing to leave for work. 

“Steffi ?” she chirped inquiringly. 

 _Sasha - oh thank god._ Stephanie detoured from her path to the kitchen into her sister’s room. 

“Hey, sweetie; how are you feeling?”

“Well, I’ve had better mornings,” Sasha drawled disapprovingly. “Tell me - does it really look awful?”

“No - you look fine,” Stephanie lied tactfully. It always paid to be gentle with Sasha - her crying fits could go on for hours. “We can go for makeovers when you’re a bit more healed up - it’ll be fun.”

“Oooh - that’d be lovely, “ Sasha smiled. “But do you really have to go in today?”

“I really do, “ Steph explained, immune to Sasha’s cajoling. “I’ve got to get the reports in on time, you know that. Jimmy’s on the couch, though. He’ll take good care of you.”

Sasha/Jen pouted, blinking imploringly up at her. 

“He’s no fun.”

“I know; I know. But hey - I know what’ll cheer you up.”

Sasha’s eyes brightened expectantly, her curiosity lighting her entire face. 

Stephanie  dug the postcard out of Jen’s backpack, presenting it with a flourish. 

“You’ve got an admirer .”

“Oooh - what’s he like?” Sasha squealed excitedly. 

“He’s really shy. Quiet. A little young, maybe, but he was so excited when he found out who I was. Very cute, though. He wanted to give me flowers for you, but I kind of waved that off. “

Sasha leaned back into the pillows, beaming as she clutched the postcard to her chest. 

“That’s so sweet,”

“He seems very nice, but take it slow, ok?” Steph pleaded. 

“Oh, I will. I couldn’t possibly let him see me like this. “

Steph wisely let it drop, noticing the time. 

“I gotta go -  think about what you want for dinner tonight and give me a call.”

Sasha nodded absently, her mind clearly elsewhere. 

 _Oh hell - what have I done?_ Steph kissed her gently on the forehead, tousling her hair gently before heading back toward the kitchen. 

“Be good, ok?”

Sasha smiled slyly, her head tilted up mischievously. 

“I’m always good, darling; you know that. “

_Shit. . . ._

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Lyle sat up with a start. Glancing around, his gaze eventually settled on Logan,  looking a bit worse for wear, taking a defensive position in his doorway. 

_“What happened to you?”_

_“Faced off with 3,”_ he coughed, spitting a hunk of black ichor off to the side. 

 _“Bloody hell,”_ Lyle swore. _“Who won?”_

 _“No one,”_ Logan grunted, peering out into the corridor through the eye-slit in the door. _“Tried to bury me in the dreaming chair.”_

Lyle gagged at the thought alone, his eyes widening.

_“How?”_

_“Allie sprung me. We need a new meeting place.”_

Lyle nodded, panic starting to sink in. 

 _“Lyle - now!”_ Logan demanded, his patience long gone.

 _“Yeah, I’m thinking,”_ he snapped back.  “ _Ok - above the cockpit, there’s a service tunnel. We never go in there. 3 doesn’t go in there, certainly, though Jen might.”_

_“What’s up there?”_

_“Dunno, never been,”_ Lyle shrugged. 

_“Tell Allie - she’ll get word to Jen.”_

Judging the hallway to be clear,  Logan cautiously opened the door, preparing to make a run for it. 

 _“Oi; Logan!”_ Lyle called after him from the bar. _“If it goes pear-shaped, lead her here.”_

With that, he tossed him a new matchbook - this one glimmering even in the low light of the bar. Logan caught it easily before heading off with a nod before pulling the door closed behind him. 

The hallways were empty - _too empty for comfort. Have to hope whoever’s at the helm now is friendly._ Peering around the final corner, he caught sight of Charlene headed toward him. The faint hint of Michael’s cologne lingered nearby. She smiled slightly, trying not to give away Logan’s presence. Eventually she wended her way around the bend in the corridor. 

 _“Child, you look like you’ve been through the mill,”_ she murmured. _“Let’s get you somewhere safe.”_

 _“Another time, darlin’,”_ Logan declined, edging away from her ever so slightly. _“Any way you can keep Michael away from here_ ?”

 _“Suit yourself,”_ Charlene pouted. _“ But sooner or later, you’re gonna need someone to talk to. “_

Logan shrugged as she stalked off, his attention trained on the corridor. At last Michael’s scent dissipated, fading into the distance. Seizing his chance, he made a break for the cockpit, barely managing to close the door behind him before he caught wind of Charlene returning. _Dodged that bullet. . . ._ he barely formed the thought before he recognized the sweet perfume of Sasha. _Only to get nailed by another one._

Sasha raised an eyebrow at his sudden arrival, flashing him a smile saturated in mischief. 

_“I’m not here, got it?”_ he declared, cutting off her train of thought. 

She nodded in reply, still smiling blissfully. 

“ _Glad you’re having a good day, at least.”_

 _“We have an admirer,”_ she blurted out giddily. 

 _“So I heard,”_ He replied, the scowl barely perceptible.  _“I need to get up to the crawlspace.”_

 _“Ewwwww. . . . why?”_ she exclaimed in revulsion. 

_“No choice; only safe place for me now.”_

_“There are other options; I mean -  it’s really nasty up there,”_ she murmured, laying her hand on his  shoulder. 

 _“Sasha, please....”_ he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. _“Just open it for me, will ya?”_

A small hatch way slipped down from the ceiling. Logan pulled down the dust-covered ladder single-handedly, letting it unfurl itself. 

 _“I owe you one,”_ he said over his shoulder as he climbed up into the gloom. 

Sasha watched him disappear into the darkness above her, shuddering at the prospect. 

 _“Poor, brave soul,”_ she sighed before turning back to the business at hand.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Pulling the hatch closed behind him, Logan glanced around him, trying to sort out what part of the mind this was. He found himself surrounded by what appeared to be electrical wiring and circuit breakers. It was strikingly sterile here - as though none of the actual emotions of living ever rippled the air here. _Lyle’s not kidding - the only scent up here is Jen’s, and hers is months old._ He stilled himself, gauging what could be heard from the cockpit. The muffled sounds of traffic and voices - barely comprehensible through the insulation - filtered up to him. Exploring deeper into the narrow, wire-filled space, he found his way to a monitoring station. _Monitoring what, though?_ The screens scrawled the numbers of their constant diagnostics, offering no clues to what they meant. He scanned the area, looking for some means of input. _Got to be a keyboard or something here somewhere._ He sat down in the only chair in the entire place, facing the largest of the multiple screens. Finding neither mouse or keyboard, he touched the screen. 

 _“Verbal command initiated,”_ the computer intoned.  _“Enter new user info to initialize override._ “

 _Oh, that can’t be good._ He pondered the implications as the cursor flickered. _Make it easier to shut down 3 when she strikes again, but at what cost? And will it make getting out of here harder? Need to pick up the pace - the longer I stay under her skin, the more screwed up things are gonna get._

 _“Howlett, James, “_ he replied finally. _“Alias Logan.”_

_“Initializing. . . . Welcome James. Override system now? y/n”_

_“No. Give me current visual.”_

_“Unable to comply. Initialize override? y/n?”_

_“No,”_ he sighed in irritation. _“ Can you give me current system status?”_

_“Right shoulder compromised - healing status 60% complete. Rib cage compromised - healing status 30% complete. . . . “_

The computer resumed its droning while he pondered his next step. _Not much good if I can’t get it to do what I need it to._

 _“Is there a manual?”_ he asked aloud.

The machine froze momentarily, searching itself for something matching the criteria. After a prolonged pause, it spoke again. 

  _“There are 7,568 files that match that description, and 12, 638, 553 that match related or synonymous terms. Touch screen to select.”_

Logan sighed. _This is going to take a while._

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Steph tried not to let Jen’s state distract her from her work. Mercifully, the building was nearly deserted, leaving her to sort out yesterdays paperwork undisturbed - except for her own nagging thoughts.

 _Maybe I should stop by the Raven again; see if anyone’s heard anything._ She dithered on that, not wanting to waste time that should be spent getting to the bottom of what was plaguing  Jen. _Besides, maybe the kid will actually email me - not real optimistic on that, to be honest. Even if I did find the guy, what could I possibly do to him? Someone threw him off a building, for crying out loud ; he’s supposed to be afraid of an accountant and her lawyer?_

A light glinted from the roof across the street - _odd, why would anyone be taking pictures from there? Got to be the least interesting view in Manhattan._

Her fingers rustled the papers absently, as if trying to distract her into doing her job. 

It wasn’t terribly effective. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

“What kind of accountant goes to work on a Saturday?” Druid ranted. 

“Well, she did have a family emergency,” Daisy quipped, barely looking up from her laptop as she scanned Stephanie’s work email history.  “Why are you bothering with that?” she chided, swiping at his hand as he began trying to photograph her again. 

Druid shrugged sheepishly and put his camera phone away. 

Pulling herself up from her cross-legged crouch, Daisy turned her attention back to their target, still restlessly pawing at the files on her desk. 

“What I don’t get is this, “ she stated. ”We know this guy fell on her sister. We know he’s out to lunch, so to speak. The person most likely to have any direct knowledge about it would be her sister. So why are we out here, watching **her**   instead of talking to the sister?”

“I dunno,” Druid sniffled, his allergies beginning to act up. “I figured it’d be easier to approach her out here. People get kind of creeped out if you come to their house - might not be as forthcoming.”

Daisy was taken aback. 

“That actually made sense,” she commented. “There’s hope for you yet. So when do we approach her?”

“I was thinking just as she leaves.”

“Mmmm. No,” Daisy countered. “Thing is, if she’s startled, she’ll bolt right back inside and have security call the cops. We need an exit just as much as we need to leave her one. And we need to stay under the radar.”

“So. . .. . on the subway?” Druid stammered. 

Daisy rolled her eyes. 

“Just leave this to me.”

“No, tell me,” he whimpered. “I need to get better at this, and if you’re not gonna correct me, I’ll just keep getting it wrong.”

Daisy tried not to glower. _He has a point. . . . . But we_ ** _do_** _keep on showing you, and you do keep on getting it wrong anyway.  Picking up this little side project showed initiative, but I don’t know if it’ll be enough to change Fury’s mind._

“Hit her before the subway,” she said flatly. “Just a little after the half-way point. Too close to either one, and she’ll  have recourse. You want her to feel like it’s easier to just answer us than it is to run. If we don’t put her off too badly, she probably won’t even want to call police, but in case she’s a little jumpy. . . . “

Druid nodded, trying to wrap his head around it. It was not an easy fit. 

“Ok,” he shrugged eventually, before checking in on their quarry again. “We should get on that, then; ‘cause she’s on the move.” 

Daisy snapped her laptop shut with a stifled curse before tearing off for the stairwell. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   * __

Sasha stared at the IM, the blinking cursor setting off waves of conflicting impulse. She peered anxiously into the living room -  _is he looking?_ James sat as he had for the past four hours, transfixed by whatever his laptop spewed forth, only glancing up when he had the attention to spare. 

 _Steffi is going to kill me,_ she smiled to herself as she began to type her reply. 

*Afraid I won’t be at my best, but if you want to come over tomorrow and hang out, that’d be great :)*

 _Sometimes you just need to be adored,_ she mused, justifying it to herself. _Besides, it isn’t like we can do anything, really. . . ._

Her chat chimed almost instantly with his answer. It took him three tries to spell “OK” correctly, and she blushed giddily as they firmed up their plans. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Stephanie made her way toward the subway, hoping the uptown local would be as empty as the downtown had been. _Ha - who am I kidding?No one wants to be around here if they can help it. Not that I blame them. . . . ._ The streets of the financial district were practically deserted except for the small flocks of lost tourists. Digging her phone out of her purse, she scrolled absently through her contacts as she walked, paying no heed to the world at large. True to form, James picked up before the first ring had even finished. 

“Hey - how is she?”

“Ummm  - giggling like a fiend. Whatever they’re giving her must be good shit.”

Steph sighed knowingly. _No good can come of this._

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. Any thoughts on dinner?”

“I could do pizza. Hang on - let me put her on. “ She heard his voice muffle as he handed Jen the phone before being greeted with Sasha’s distinctive “Hallo?”

“Hi, sweetie - you sound better. What are you up to?”

“Really, Steffi; you’d think I was only happy when I was up to no good,” Sasha drawled with a chuckle. 

“Yeah, usually. So, what is it?”

“Well, you know that guy ?”

Stephanie didn’t need to hear the rest.  _Should have known._ ** _Of course_** _she invited him over. Fragile egos like Sasha’s need almost constant stroking. Should never have told her about him - poor bastard. At least we’ll both be around tomorrow in case it gets out of hand._

“Excuse me, Miss Taylor?”

Steph looked up, surprised to find a man and a woman in dark sunglasses standing in front of her. from what little she could make out of their expression, they had been there for some time. _OK. . . . ._ Waving them off, she tried to wrap up her conversation with her sister. 

“Anyway, Jimmy was thinking about pizza tonight - sound good?”

“Which place? because that place last time - ugh; terrible.”

“Kind of depends what we’re getting, doesn’t it? I mean, I know what you want on it, just not sure what he takes on his. Can you ask him for me - no; better - just put him back on. “

The man in shades looked over at his friend, shrugging haplessly. His friend merely shook her head, clicking her tongue in irritation. 

“Pineapple? Really? You’re going to be a pain in the ass about this?” Steph continued, only half ignoring them. 

“What’s wrong with pineapple?” the voice on the line countered.

“ Okay, look - you want pineapple, fine - **you** find a decent place willing to make it for you,” she snapped.  “As long as you’re not sending me on a wild goose chase all over the five Boroughs. And don’t cop out on me and go for one of those crappy chain shops - not even real pizza at that point. You’re cleaning up after her if you do. Call me back once you find it.”

Hanging up at last, she turned her attention to the strangers. 

“What can I do for you?”

“ We’re just following up on your sister’s case, “ Druid began, fidgeting with his sunglasses as he did so.  Daisy smacked at his hand warning him with her finger while Stephs attention was turned away. 

“Ah. Ok - have they found the guy yet? Because she’s a mess right now, and anything that might calm her down would be a huge help.”

“Afraid not, though it might help if we could sit down with your sister, maybe go through some pictures. “

“I’ll have to talk to her,”Steph replied.  “See if she’s up to it. I don’t know if they said anything about her condition in the report.”

“Condition?” Daisy inquired, her eyebrows raised. 

“I gather they didn’t then. Huh.”

“We uhhhh. . .. .we only skimmed it,” Druid blurted. “It’s been really hectic.”

“Ah.“ Steph nodded - she could relate. “Okay - the short version? My sister has multiple personalities. So this has been really doing a number on her, and I’m not sure how much more of it she can deal with.”

“How long has she. . .. “ Druid asked. 

“It’s been going on for years,” Steph sighed. “Look, I have Officer Myrees’ card. I’ll talk to her when I get home, see if she’s stable enough to do it.”

“Probably best to set it up with us,” Daisy countered as Druid handed her a business card. “If he, or anyone claiming to be him, contacts you, call us first.”

“Ummmm. . . . . okay,” Steph replied, processing this.  “Look, I appreciate that you guys have your jobs to do, but really; I get enough inter-office fighting at work.”

“Oh no, it’s not like that,” Druid stammered. “It’s just. . . . “

“Something he’s never dealt with before, “ Daisy chimed in with the save.

“Never dealt with what?”

“Someone. . . . . “ Druid began hesitantly, knowing the next few syllables would decide which foot went in his mouth. 

“Like my sister?” Steph snapped, glaring at him. 

His eyes cast down, he nodded. Just go with it - _easier to just let her choose which flavor of wrong than to make something up._

“Well, this’ll be a learning experience for all of us, then,” she snarled, stalking away. 

“Ms. Taylor,” Daisy called after her. “He mentions his suspicions that her assailant had powers. Did you know that?”

Stephanie turned back, gaping in disbelief. 

“Why the hell would he say that?”

“Not unheard of in this city. Probably one every three blocks - or were at one point. Things have changed recently.”

“You think he was right?”

“I think it isn’t impossible, “ Daisy answered shrewdly. 

Stephanie steadied herself on the railing around the subway stairs. _Sixteen steps down and I can get on the train; pretend I never met these people and just rebuild with what we have. If they’re right, we are absolutely screwed. The internet is loaded with videos of the horrible things that happened to people caught in the crossfire of capes . . . . . it rarely ends well._

“Look, I’ll talk to her, all right?” Steph declared.  “But if what you’re saying is true, I really have to examine whether it’s worth pursuing. In the end, I have to do what’s best for her - what’s safest.”

“We can offer you **_some_** protection,” Daisy professed. “We’re better equipped to handle that kind of attack. Better trained. . . . “

“Yeah, but eventually you’ll go home,” Steph countered. “And we’ll be on our own against - god, I don’t even know what.”

“Shouldn’t you at least find out?”

Steph glanced back at Daisy, unable to read much expression behind the mirrored shades. 

“Monday,” she sighed finally. “One way or the other, I’ll call you then.”

“Ok; Monday it is.” Druid  concluded, sidling up to Daisy.  “Schedule can be a little erratic, so just leave a message if we don’t pick up.”

Steph nodded absently, barely noticing their departure. _There’s a great big hole in this, and it stinks of disaster.  Logan is going to have a field day with this one._ The thought stopped her in her tracks. _Can’t let him find out; How am I going to work around him?_

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Her mind buzzed frantically the whole way home, the fog clearing only slightly as she settled down to dinner. Sasha’s enthused warbling scarcely registered as she found herself agreeing to whatever she had asked for. James shot her a concerned look as she did so. _Whatever; it’s Sasha - I’ll deal with it later._

After dinner, when Sasha had merrily shuffled off to her computer, he broached the subject. 

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t even know what you just agreed to, do you?”

Steph shook her head, turning away from the dishes for a moment. 

“Some people came looking for me at work, wanting her to look at some mug shots.”

“Police?”

“I’m not sure. The whole thing. . .. it just doesn’t scan, you know?”

“Well, what did the precinct say?”

“Haven’t called them yet. Honestly, I’m afraid to.”

He let the fridge door close itself as her pulled her into a hug. 

“Honey, I know this is scary as hell, but you’ve got to keep it together, “ he murmured.  “I’ll do everything I can, but I can only follow your lead here. Shutting down is only going to make this **so** much harder.”

“They said the guy might have powers,” she croaked, holding back the tears. “I can deal with a lot of shit - I have all my life. But if we pursue this, we’re going to wind up hunted down and who knows what they’ll do to us?”

“Woah woah woah - don’t you think we’re maybe jumping to conclusions here? I mean this guy -  he could be anybody. He might even be reasonable. And there’s nothing to say they’re going to charge him with anything, right?”

She nodded, sniffling as the tide broke.

“Ok, so here’s what we do. You call the detective; ask him who these guys are and what he thinks is going to happen here. Then we can poke around online, see what we can find out and we’ll go from there. Ok?”

“Steffi? Is everything all right?” Sasha enquired, peering around the door frame. 

“I’m fine - I’m ok, sweetie, “ Steph dissembled. “Some people came by at work, asking if you were up to looking through mug shots.”

“I don’t have to do it alone, do I?” Sasha asked hesitantly. 

“I’m not sure. I’ll ask Officer Myree when I speak to him. “

“Well, let me know when, so I can see if Jeremy can come with me.”

“Sasha, honey, it’s not a date,” Steph hissed in exasperation.

“It could be. . . .” she grinned. 

“We’ll talk about this later, “ Stephanie scowled, exhaustion creeping over her. “Did you need anything?”

“I just want this all finished,” Sasha shook her head. “I want things to get back to normal. We don’t need to press charges, but knowing who he was . . . . I don’t know, it makes it easier to put it behind me. Really, this won’t be over for me until I can walk into the Raven again without looking up in dread. I just can’t sort out how to get there from here.”

“I know,” Steph sighed. “But this isn’t going to just disappear once we know who he is. There’s a lot to think about before we do anything. Let’s talk about it in the morning. Okay? Please?”

“Okay,” Sasha inveighed. 

“Look, I need to make a couple of calls and go over a few things with Jimmy,” Steph seethed. “I’ll come and check in on you in a little bit. Just give me a little space.”

Sasha slunk away,  gazing warily back at them on her way back to her room. _She’s not telling me something, Have they found Logan’s body? Lucky bastard -  at least he can get away from here._

*U ok?* the IM chimed as she settled down in front of her computer again. 

*Steffi’s having a bad day :(* she typed back.*looking forward to tomorrow*

*Sure you’re up for this?*

*Definitely. I need the distraction.*

The cursor blinked for a while before Jeremy wrote back. 

*Got to sign off -Dad wants me to talk to someone downstairs*

*Ok - talk to you tomorrow :)*

*Goodnight beautiful :)*

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

 __Things were not going as well in the kitchen.

“Wait - if they’re not police, then who the hell are they?”Stephanie hissed into the phone. 

“Ms Taylor; we’ll get to the bottom of this. Did they show you a badge - some ID, anything?” Officer Myree queried as patiently as he could. 

“No; they said they wanted to have her look at some mugshots, gave me their card.”

“Okay; read it to me.”

“”Okay it’s . . . huh. All it says is S and a phone number.”

He scrawled it down on the back of a receipt. _Deep breaths. . . . don’t panic._

“Well, whoever they are, they’re not NYPD,” Myree grumbled. “That’s not how we operate. I’ll do a reverse look-up on the number, see if it turns up a name. But I gotta tell you, if they are with another agency, they they aren’t there officially. You’d have their full names and badge numbers if they were.”

“ . . . . Unofficial . . . . that’s not good, is it?”she stammered. 

“I can’t say. Look; let me talk to my superiors, see if I can get a squad car out front.”

“I’m not sure if they know where we live - though they could probably look it up from their copy of the report.”

“They can’t have the report - it wasn’t even finished until a half hour ago.”

Stephanie went numb. 

“Let me look this up - I’ll know more in an hour. If they contact you again, call me immediately.”

Steph stalked into the living room, the phone falling from her hand as she sank into the chair across from James. 

“Well?”

“He has no idea who they are.”

“Oh.”

Staring down at his laptop, he felt the old fire ignite. _And they said learning the old tricks was a waste._ A grin tightened on his face as he tapped away at the keys, making the necessary protocol changes. 

“Let me see that card?”

She handed it to him, staring blankly into space. 

He turned it over in his fingers,  carefully handling it by its edges. _Ah well -  no printer logo; so we’re not dealing with an amateur._

“Not much to work with, but here goes.”

He carefully set his connection, running it through numerous proxies before finally signing in on the long- forgotten forum, hoping at least one of his old compatriots would be logged in. _Knowing them, they’ll be in the least-populated chats._ He needn’t have worried -  within a minute he was invited in to the chat *back in the dial-up days* by Aceinthewhole.

*Ace - glad you’re on! Meet me for coffee?*

The pause before the reply made him triple-check his connection. _Did I trip something? He does remember our codes, right?_

*Same Bat-time, same Bat-counter?*

_Damn lag is gonna be the death of me someday._

_*_ As ever :) bring the Toybox _*_

He signed out quickly, severing his connection before looking up at Stephanie. 

“I’m just gonna go meet someone for coffee - will you guys be okay for a couple of hours?”

She blinked in astonishment, still too numb to react. 

“I can call Vic if you need someone here,” he prattled on, carefully wrapping the card in a tissue. 

“You think Vic can handle this?”

“Not any better than I can, but at least he has the car.”

She shrugged, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. 

“Call him. If these guys show up, I don’t want to face them by myself.”

She walked away, staring out the window to the streets below. _They could be outside right now - how the hell would I know? Think, damnit - How do I keep her safe?_

“I’ll only be a couple of hours, so I’ll take the keys,” James broke her ruminations.  “If you need to leave - or if things get hairy here, call. “

“I just don’t get why you have to go - Now - of all times. Can’t it wait?”

“If we want to find out who they work for, this is the best way I know of to find out. “

“Aw, no. . . .I’m not hearing this, “she griped. “You went to jail for this! “

“I was 14  - it was Juvie! “he shot back.  “And besides, it wasn’t for anything like this. Which is why I’m not dumb enough to try it here. “

“I’m not gonna win this,” She muttered in resignation. “But so help me, if you get busted, and I have to deal with your parents, I will slap you into next week.”

Dismissing her concern, he scanned through his phone listings backward. _Please pick up. . . . . please pick up.. . ._

Steph stalked out of the living room toward Jen’s bedroom. Sitting down on the corner of the bed, she tried to compose herself before addressing Sasha. 

“Steffi, what’s wrong?” Sasha lilted, her brow creased with concern.

“It’s nothing,”

“No, you’re angry - why?”

“Jimmy’s going out for a bit;” Stephanie rasped. “He’s asked Vic to come by and help us instead.”

“Is he coming back?”

“Hopefully;” Steph replied. “As long as his research doesn’t get him in trouble.”

She paused for a moment, trying to craft a cover story. _Something easy - not too scary, or we’ll lose her._

“He wants to track down some people bothering me at work,” she explained.

Sasha/Jen looked at her skeptically.

“This is news; when did this start?”

“Oh, I don’t know - a while ago,” Steph floundered, trying to sidestep the gaping hole being dug out of her story. 

“Well, what are they doing? Did they hurt you?” Sasha persisted; the concern in her voice rising.

“No.”

“Is someone hitting on you?”

“Sasha, I don’t want to discuss it!” Stephanie finally shouted. 

Sasha fell silent, her eyes widening. _Steffie’s never lied to me - ever!_

Swallowing hard, she slowly put her good arm around her shoulder. 

“You’ll warn me if it gets really bad, won’t you?”

Stephanie held her head, gently kissing her brow before nodding.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

 __Arriving at Alt.Coffee only slightly winded, James took a moment to catch his breath by the counter before making his way into the back room.  Two boys were logged in at the ancient terminals in the corner, laughing at the latest volley in a flamewar they’d been eagerly stoking. _Give him a few minutes; it’s so easy to get wound up over nothing._ He strode back to the counter to place his order. 

“Been a while - good to see you, man,” Mark smiled behind the counter. “The usual?”

“Glad to be home, man - should probably make it a triple; it’s gonna be a long night.”

“You waiting on Ace? The walk takes him a bit longer now with his knee.”

James shook his head in sympathy. 

“Thought they’d have patched him up by now.”

“Yeah, well -  hazards of contracting, I guess.” Mark griped as he handed him the mug of espresso.  “This a private disaster, or do you want to share?”

“Actually it started just up the block a bit. . .. “ he chuckled, relating the short version of the story. Ace sidled up to them about halfway through the telling, leaning on his cane in silence behind James as he imparted it all to Mark. 

“Man, trouble really knows how to find you,” Mark whistled in response. “Like that loser behind you, for instance.”

James wheeled around in surprise, greeted by a grinning Ace.

“Son of a -  even with the cane, you got me,” he exclaimed, wrapping his old friend in a bear hug.

“Every time,” Ace chuckled. “Step into my office, man. I want a look at that card if you’ve got it.”

Digging the wrapped business card out of his laptop bag, he followed Ace into the back room. Handling it with a pair of pliers, Ace held the UV flashlight up to it, checking for any reaction.

“Hmm. Nothing,” Ace clucked. “You run the digits?”

“Didn’t want to chance it at my cousin’s place - slowly learning not to shit where I live.”

“Yeah; but the rest of us just figured out how to flush.. . . .” he chided.

“True, but Jen and Stef have enough to deal with without bringing them right to the door.”

“Fair enough,” Ace shrugged as he began adjusting the protocols. “Get comfy -  this is going to take a while.”

James straddled the chair next to his mentor, watching him glide through the set up with neither pause nor hesitation. Most of it he knew; some of the newer precautions completely threw him for a loop.

“Woah; wait a sec -  I know that IP,” James sputtered, spraying coffee across the monitor.  “Isn’t that a bit close to home?”

“Kind of the idea, “ Ace countered. ”Here; boot her up while I install this.” He pulled the laptop out of the bag, handing it over to him as he hit redial on his cell. Groping about further, he managed to drag the wireless USB transmitter from its’ hiding spot in the side pocket as the phone began to ring.

“Hey, all good on this end. Let me know when you’ve got your latte.”

James rolled his eyes as he realized who Ace had called.

“f-5top? You dragged f-5top into this?”

Ace just smiled as he slipped the dongle into the USB port on the computer. 

“You know she’ll kill you if you get her Starbucks shut down.”

“She sure will try.”

 _I finally understand that adage about friends close, enemies closer;_ James mused. _Eventually, you’ll want to smack them both._

He sighed, shaking his head. 

“Dare I ask why?”

“Well, I’ve set it up so the proxy trail appears to end at our zombie machine in the Astor Place Starbucks. I’ve got her set up over by the cube, filming whoever shows up.  On the off chance we’re dealing with someone who knows their shit, we will be launching this from out there, giving us room to run if it all goes wrong. Seriously - have you been out of the game that long?”

“I just never stuck with it; was happy with playing with Linux and staying out of trouble. Besides, even at my worst, it was never this heavy.”

“First time for everything.,” Ace shrugged. “Let’s hope this was all just overkill.”

Checking the signal strength one last time, Ace slugged down the last of his coffee. 

“Okay, we’re good to go.” he announced finally, pulling the headset of his phone back on. “Give us about seven minutes, then start filming.”

Making their way across the avenue, they settled themselves within sight of the coffee shop, just at the edge of the dongle’s range. Ace took the laptop back from James and opened the browser to begin the search. 

“I gotta tell ya, chances of finding this guy are kind of slim. If he’s smart, this line will have nothing on it but an activation date. Oh good; let’s see what we’ve got.”

James edged closer, peering over Ace’s shoulder as the results loaded. 

“Yup -  prepaid phone - in cash. Though there is one call on it. To something called Yummy House.”

“Oh man. . . I know that exchange -” James muttered. “That is way too close for comfort.”

“Relax; it’s a big borough. Just because he’s ordering takeout six stops away from you doesn’t mean he’ll be at your door. Now keep an eye out -  if we did trip something with this search, we’ll know in a minute. “

James tried to make himself comfortable as they waited. _Please not H.A.M.M.E.R. . . . . . Please not H.A.M.M.E.R. . . . just this once, let this not be a big deal._

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

 __Looking over the intelligence reports on his desk, Fury was interrupted in his scheming by a knock at the doorway. He waved them in, closing the folder as they approached.

“We just got a two query alerts on one of the trac phones, sir.”

“Where did they start?”

“One of them came from the NYPD Ninth precinct house. The other seems to originate at a Starbucks downtown.”

_Damnit, Druid - what the hell did you do now?_

“What do you want done about them?”

“We’re sure about the point of origin?” he inquired, looking over the data handed to him.

They’re still checking it over - there are a hell of a lot of proxies on it - but so far it looks that way.”

“Send someone to check it out. Quietly. We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves.”

“And the police?”

“No; I know what that’s about,” he said, pulling on his coat wearily. “Get Druid’s ass up - he needs to learn how to clean up his own mess. Just keep that info out of Osbourne’s hands. If they find anything more on the trace, call me.”

He strode out of the office angrily. _Looks like time is not on our side anymore. Time to make some calls._

“Tell him to meet me at the gate -  we’re going for coffee.”

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Deep in the heart of Allie’s playground, Jen sat at the edge of the fairy lake, under the story-book sliver of a moon. _I remember these books - I used to recite every line of them when I was five. Just distant stories now. . . . someone else’s stories._

 _“You okay?”_ Allie queried, scampering over to her from the edge of the forest.

 _“Yeah; just a lot on my mind.”_ she sighed. _“You wouldn’t understand.”_

 _“Yes I do,”_ the child insisted. _“I un’erstand lots more than anyone knows. I un’erstand why you made us. I un’erstand why 3 is so scared; I un’erstand it’s jus’ gonna keep getting darker  ‘n meaner ‘n uglier until you finally a’sorb us, so you can make 3 go away.”_

_“Allie, no. . .. “_

_“It’s true, though. You have to,”_ Allie countered. _“If you’re gonna beat her, you need to be stronger than her.  I’m small, and everyone thinks I don’t know about the bad stuff that made us, but that’s like a rock not knowing it used to be a piece of mountain. “_

Jen stared at the child, stunned momentarily into silence. 

_“That’s not you -  you never sounded like this before.”_

_“You never needed me to,”_ Allie retorted. _“3 does a lot to keep you weak, but she forgot  -  we_ ** _are_** _you. And when you need our strength, you need to pull us back in.”_

 _“Sweetie, it’s not that simple,”_ Jen shook her head. _“ I created you all so I could escape from what happened, and not have to deal with it.”_

_“Did it work?”_

Jen turned back to the lake, watching the curiously nocturnal swans glide across the water. 

 _“For a while; until it backfired,”_ she sighed in defeat.

Allie sat down beside her, stretching her tiny fingers over Jen’s hand before resting them both on her knee. 

_“Every time she made you dream them, you had to deal with it. It was really, really bad, and they were terrible for doing it to you. Nothing can take that away. But if you don’t fight back soon, all that will be left of you will be 3.  And the monsters win.”_

They sat in silence for a while, Jen’s thoughts poring over all the possible ways this could go wrong; Allie merely waiting for her resolve to firm up.

 _“Okay,”_ Jen croaked finally. _“But whatever happens, don’t let 3 see you.”_

 _“Oh that’s easy,”_ the child grinned. lifting one of the large, flat stones from the pathway, Allie ran her hands over its surface, slowly morphing it into a laptop computer. 

Jen bit back a curse as it dawned on her. 

_“You mean you could do this -  you could crack the system all this time?”_

_“Only a little;”_ Allienodded, still typing intently. _“I didn’t do it a lot; didn’t want 3 to figure out it was me.”_

The child looked up from the newly - formed laptop with an unfamiliar gravitas.

“ _You were my age when you were attacked. I was the first one of us you made. You wanted me to try and keep the innocence they took from you. But everything has its echo here. We still learn. Innocence fostered curiosity, so as 3 got more controlling, I taught myself, knowing one day you’d need it.”_

Placing the laptop on the boulder, Allie brushed her hands off with a smile. 

_“Memories are signed over; I need you to promise me something, though.”_

_“What?”_ Jen asked, remembering enough of her fairy tales to not answer before knowing what it entailed.

_“Promise you won’t try to absorb Logan? I’m not sure he’s one of us, and it’d be really messy if that turns out to be true.”_

Jen considered this. _Could it be true?_ She filed the thought away for later. 

_“I’ll look into it. But what am I supposed to do about him if he isn’t?”_

_“Find his body. I’m sure one of you will figure out the rest.”_

Jen shrugged, unsure of how else to respond. 

Taking one last look around her fabricated world, Allie reached up to take Jen’s hand. 

_“It’s a beautiful little world -  I hope you keep it.”_

Kneeling down , Jen pulled the child into a gentle embrace, slowly pulling her essence back into herself. As her tiny frame faded into a twinkling mist, the colors of her realm paled, slowly greying until Jen found herself standing exposed in the open hall in front of an extremely perplexed Lyle. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Growling an aggravated sigh, Logan glowered at the monitor. The cockpit beneath him had long gone silent. _Looks like we’re finally sleeping; doubt Sasha does anything else this quiet._ He glanced over the other screens to confirm this, having been able to puzzle out what at least two of them did. _Should be safe enough - Hate to spoil her day, but I_ ** _NEED_** _to get outta here._

_“Initiate override.”_

The monitoring station came alive with a hushed whirring as the system reconfigured itself. Speakers manifested behind him as a pair of monitors sidled up on either side of the one he’d been using. 

_“Memory banks created - Howlett, James - a.k.a. Logan. Set access permissions.”_

_“No one,”_ he snapped at the machine. His memory raced back to the library, and what 3 could do if she got her hands on them. _”No one else needs to see this.”_

The system seemed to accept this, continuing on with its final adjustments. 

_“Displaying dream feed on monitor 3.”_

_Well, nothing else to do until morning anyway -  besides, I’ll need to know how she thinks._ He sat back to watch. 

She was running -  that caught his attention. _From what?_ She gradually slowed to a more frolicsome pace as their surroundings came into view. The beach was truly lovely -  even with the monuments he recognized from within Jen’s mind scattered half-buried in the sand. She was heading over to a thatch-roofed gazebo near the water where someone was waiting. 

He couldn’t see the person’s face. _Two arms, two legs, a head?_ Indistinct, except for the voice. 

 _“It will be good to see them all again, won’t it?”_ The deep, resonant voice most decidedly was not asking. 

Sasha looked at him, puzzled. 

The figure gave the sense it was smiling before offering her a slice of pineapple from a carved wooden bowl. 

“Soon. . . . “ the voice cooed. 

It sent a chill down Logan’s spine. He flicked the monitor off just as she winced, the juice of the pineapple stinging the miniscule cuts that appeared on her fingers.

_I don’t need to see the rest._

_“Show me something else,”_ he ordered.

_“No other feed available.”_

_“Fine -  no audio. Notify me five minutes before waking.”_

He settled himself into the lotus position, clearing his head to face the light of morning.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Fury arrived, with Druid in tow at the Astor Place Starbucks to find it closed. Only the fridge cases and one lone computer tower in the back remained lit. And while the streets were far from deserted, no one had so much as a laptop in evidence. 

“Yeah, thought that was too easy,” he spat.

“So now what?” Druid inquired, still wiping sleep out of his eyes.

“They’ve got a zombie in there. Could be running it remotely from anywhere,” Fury thought aloud. “You’re sure - absolutely sure - no one else has ever been given this number?”

“Ummm. . . . . “

Fury resisted the urge to punch him in the gut.

“Who else?”

“Just the takeout place. But there’s no reason they’d be looking me up like this.”

It took all his willpower to keep from shouting.

“When I gave these to you guys I told you point blank they were for operational use only. Was that not clear enough for you?!?”

“It was one time! It’s not like I had it delivered. I paid them in cash. I think. . . .”

“You’re really making it hard for me not to slap the shit out of you,” Fury glowered as he called the base. 

“Yeah, dead-ended here; any luck tracing it back to an actual point of origin?”

“Yup -  it’s actually only about 5 blocks east of your current position.”

“Clever boys,” he muttered. “Thanks. Moving in shortly; still waiting on  someone.”

He glanced around to the south, hoping to catch sight of their awaited guest. _It had to be east. . . . . way too close for comfort._

“Who are we waiting on?”

“Strange. I figure if you’re outta your depth, I should call someone who definitely won’t be.”

He scarcely noticed the frail-looking middle-aged woman pulling herself up from her perch on the other side of the cube.

“You’ve been made. And they are not happy,” she breathed uneasily into her headset.

“Get clear - any idea what outfit they’re with?” Ace’s voice crackled with both static and concern.

“Old school. Beyond that, dunno.”

“Just get clear. Sorry about losing your zombie, luv.”

f-5top fought the urge to shrug, instead casually walking toward the stairs for the uptown 6.

“Happens. Have to get a new one, I guess.”

She reached the top of the stairs, turning in time to see two men walking up to the unnamed agents. 

“They’ve got backup now,” she whispered.

“Armed?”

“Nope -  not that I can see, anyway.”

“Keep walkin’ hon - we got this.”

She lowered her gaze into the stairwell, swimming in vertigo now. _Keep the appearance up . . . can still get signal half-way down here._ Gingerly she made her way down the steps and out of sight. 

“Thanks for coming,” Fury addressed the two men. “I know you’ve got your hands full.”

“A bit, yes, but I know you are not one to burden me with trivialities. I trust you have no objections to my inviting along my associate- indeed, my successor, Dr. Voodoo?”

“Successor? Congratulations; good to see you again. We’re actually on our way to tracking down some loose ends relating to this problem. It would seem someone has stolen Logan.”

“Not sure if I understand you -  in what sense?” 

“Two nights ago, I happened upon him in the middle of a fight. He did not walk away from it. When we recovered his body, it remained unconscious - still is, from what Doctor Carter tells me.”

Doctor Strange winced at the name.

“In short, no one’s home in there, and it’s not a real good idea having the living weapon unoccupied so anyone with half a mind to can just take him over and go on another killing spree.”

“I can see where that would be a problem.”

“Just so we’re all clear; what exactly are you hoping we’ll do for you?” Jericho inquired pointedly.

“Ideally? Find him and put him back. Failing that, make sure no one else can get to him. By any means necessary.”

“Right . . . . “ Strange rasped reluctantly. “And where is the body now?”

“Safe. We’ll take you to him after we’ve handled this business over on Avenue A.”

“We could take them to the scene,” Druid offered. “Maybe they can get a sense of what happened from the resonant energies?”

Fury shrugged. It wasn’t that far from where they were headed anyway. 

“Found him on 12th and A. Shall we meet you there, or would you rather we all stuck together?”

“Let’s rendezvous there -  you clearly have something you’d rather attend to unimpeded by our presence.”

“Just business - won’t take long.”

They had by now reached First Avenue. Doctor Voodoo shot Strange a look rife with displeasure. 

“You know as well as I it’s better to keep clear of Fury and his ‘business’,” he murmured to him quietly as they split off from them.

Fury soldiered on toward Avenue A, his pace no longer slackened to accommodate conversation.

“So that’s the new Sorcerer Supreme? Huh. Interesting.” Druid observed.

“Not through with you yet. You’re going to learn to clean up your mess. I have had it up to here with this shit.”

“What are we. . . . . “

“Just gonna talk to them. They want to know who you are, so show them,” he said, digging his phone out once again. Before them Tompkins Square unfurled itself in all its squalor. “Okay, which way?”

“Down about half a block - some sort of coffee shop I think.”

“Aw hell; I know the place.”

Fury led Druid straight into Alt.Coffee, making a bee-line for the computers in the back room.

“Narrow it down for me; got like eight machines in house, though it’s more likely one of these five back here.”

“Texting you the IP now.”

Looking around the room, he noticed the ‘out of order’ sign prominently displayed on the machine in the middle of the counter. Examining the tower closer, he noticed the dongle protruding from the port. _Kids’re decent, I’ll give them that._ He walked back to the register, holding the sign. 

“Call them,” he said, dropping it on the counter. 

“Who?” Mark asked, in the closest to an innocent tone he could manage. 

“Look - we have the IP; we know they’re using your signal. I’m not gonna hurt them;  just want to see who’s asking.”

Mark eyed him warily before picking up the phone.

“Not sure how you want to handle this - they want to meet you.”

Turning back to Fury, Mark passed along their demands.

“You got nothing to charge them with. So far, being clever isn’t a crime. Guarantee their safety and they’ll come in.”

“Done. Just don’t take too long about it; I got people waiting.”

“You copy that?” he said into the phone. “Uh huh. No sweat. It’ll be waiting when you get in.” Hanging up, he turned back to the coffee machine, pouring a large cup and placing it on the counter. Glancing between the impatient man standing akimbo before him and the kid with the hang-dog look, he poured one for himself. _It’s gonna be a loooong night; I can just tell._

James skulked in, his eyes scanning every corner for anything out of sorts. _Got to be our guys. Feds? Who else would be this subtle? What the hell did you get yourself into, Jen?_

“You looking for me?” he asked, not quite managing to sound at ease.

“Where’re the others?”

“This is my mess; got nothing to do with them, so they’re not coming. What do you guys want with my cousin?”

Fury shot a pointed, burning look at Druid.

“See, kid - that’s how it’s done. Your cousin - she the one got landed on?”

“If I say yes, what happens?”

Fury shook his head. 

“Kid, I don’t blame ya for being careful, but I’m not interested in hurting her -  or you - or your friends, for that matter. Just need to talk to her. She’s the only other person who might know what happened to the other guy, and we really need to know what she saw.”

I can tell you, she don’t know anything,” he answered sharply. ”She’s been a mess since the accident - paranoid, terrified. No one seems to know where the other guy disappeared to -  like he vaporized or something.”

“Logan - the other guy’s name was Logan,” Fury retorted. “And while he does seem to have that effect on people generally, we still need to talk to your cousin. “

James tried not to shudder at the name. _Can’t be - no way. Not possible. And yet. . .  . it’s not like she had a chance to ask him._

Fury noted the change in stance before continuing. “People have a funny way of remembering things if you ask them the right way. I promise you, we’ll do whatever we can to keep her safe. But it’s vitally important we speak to her.”

“I can’t promise anything -  her sister is really protective. I mean, she’s got good reason to be, but you know. . . . “

“Just set it up. Whatever you think works, but the clock is ticking. Very soon now, H.A.M.M.E.R.’s going to catch wind of this, and it’s going to make all our lives that much harder. But I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

James shook his head, wrapping his hands around his coffee to try and warm the numbness out of them. He took a long, deep breath before sipping it, desperate to settle his nerves. 

“You still have the card, or you need another one?” Fury asked after a while.

“Need a new one. It got lost in testing,” James lied, relieved to be talking about something else.

Druid dutifully pulled one from his coat pocket, handing it to the guy. 

“So who do we ask for? I mean, the whole point of all this was knowing who we’re dealing with. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a lot of psychos out there - only half of them have badges.”

“Don’t I know it. That there’s Sebastian; I’m Nick. Let’s leave it at that. And you might tell your cousin not to involve the police from now on - that’s how H.A.M.M.E.R usually finds out about this shit.”

“Well isn’t that delightful? So how exactly are civilians being kept safe now?”

“Don’t look at me; that wasn’t my call to make.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately this ain’t my call either. I’ve got to talk to Steph, see if Jen can handle it. It’ll go down easier if Steph can be there with her.”

“Fine; sworn to secrecy about anything disclosed , though.”

“Figured as much. Won’t be a problem for Steph at least; the personalities are a bit trickier.”

“Hmmmm. Also easier to dismiss, though.”

James nodded, checking his cell phone for the time.

“Listen, I know you have better things to do at 2:30 in the morning, so why don’t we leave it here for now. I’ll talk to her - should have an answer for you by noon.”

Fury frowned. _This is gonna be close._

 _“_ It’ll have to do, I guess. We have some uniquely qualified experts on stand-by; hate to keep them waiting. Talk to you at noon.”

James nodded his regards as they left, still gripping the mug for dear life. He let a minute pass before releasing a torrent of obscenities. 

Ace, finally feeling it was safe, at last returned from the park. 

“So? Who are they?”

Mark poured them both a refill before topping off his own. 

“Not H.A.M.M.E.R.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” he shrugged.

“I’ve seen the older guy around a few times. Think he has a girlfriend in the neighborhood or something. Rumor is he was in the war.”

“This whole thing stinks,” James sighed. “But there ain’t a damn thing I can do about any of it.”

Mark nodded sympathetically, pouring him one for the road.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

The two sorcerers stood awkwardly on the corner of the avenue, trying to remain inconspicuous. 

“Something definitely happened here,” Jericho began, tracing out the shaded remnants of the disturbance. “At least, it ended here.”

“I would not be surprised to find that this began several blocks away, knowing Wolverine.”

“Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way,” Jericho surmised. “We are left with a victim - alive, though incapable of regaining consciousness. This implies his soul remains on this plane -  somewhere. What would do that? More to the point, what **could** do that to him?”

Both men ran down their extensive lists of spells and items of power. They barely noticed when Druid and Fury finally arrived.

“Find anything?”

“Trace elements,” Jericho answered, pulling the Eye of Agamotto out of his inner pocket. The mystic light narrowed on the spot where the fight had ended, revealing the ghostly images of the two combatants. They watched as the taller figure reached through the body of Wolverine, drawing him out. Remembering Strange’s warning about how the images might be seen by Agamotto, he quickly closed the eye before it could reveal anything further. 

The two looked at one another knowingly. 

“Blackheart,”they said in unison.

“Okay -  so how do we find him?”

“There’s a chance he hid Logan’s essence in the body of someone who was there, though there’s no guarantee of that. Were there any other injuries near here from that fight?”

“Just one - a woman we’re trying to set up a meeting with.”

“What do we know about her?” Strange queried.

“Long history of psychiatric problems, currently cared for by her sister.”

“Certainly makes her an ideal host,” Doctor Voodoo observed.  “We’ll know for certain once we’ve seen them both.”

“Him I can take you to; won’t be able to see her until some time this afternoon.” 

“Gives us time to prepare a strategy. But let’s get over to see him. As you say; time is of the essence.”

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Lyle stood paralytically transfixed by Jen’s sudden materialization. _All my favorite dreams start this way -  and all my worst nightmares too._

 _“Are. . .. . are you all right?”_ he managed to stammer.

Jen scanned about for Agent 3, and was relieved to see no sign of her. _Won’t take her long to track me down, though._

 _“I’ve never_ ** _been_** _all right - Why start now?”_ she quipped, struggling to pull herself up.

Stepping forward nervously, he reached out to help her up.

_“Logan sent me to find you -  and someone called Allie? But let’s get out of the open . . .”_

Digging around his long coats capacious pockets, he eventually produced a matchbook and ushered her into his domain.

 _“So which one are you?”_ Jen asked as she flopped onto one of the couches facing the bar.

 _“Call me Lyle, Ma’am,”_ he replied, insecurity and uncertainty dripping off every word.

 _“Oh, so_ ** _you’re_** _him, yes? I’d always wondered about you,”_ she coughed. _“ I keep hearing stories about you and having to clear the mess you leave behind.”_

_“Yeah -  sorry. It’s just.. . . . well, it’s kind of what I do, really. Can I get you anything?”_

She waved away the offer, still getting her bearings. 

_“Afraid you’re too late for Allie. She asked me to re-integrate her. It’s a little disorientating.”_

Lyle poured himself a drink before settling himself on a chair facing her.

_“What’s it like?”_

_“What is what like?”_

_“You know. . . . the whole re-inter-sorption thingy.”_

_“Bizarre,”_ she professed. _“I mean, suddenly remembering thoughts and feelings I hadn’t known I ever had, things I did, stuff I said. It can take a while for everything to settle in. Plus, the pain killers aren’t making things any clearer.”_

 _“Can she still feel? I mean, is she alive in there?”_ he asked, the tension in his voice palpable

_“In a way; she’s part of_ **_me_ ** _again, so she’s alive as long as I am.”_

_“And you need to do it to all of us?”_ he gulped, along with a substantial slug of whiskey.

 _“Yeah - eventually,”_ she rasped. _“But not right now. So you mentioned Logan -  where did he go?”_

 _“Oh, he’s gone up the crawl space. Told him it was the only place 3 wouldn’t go.”_ Lyle answered blithely. 

 _“He won’t get in!”_ she gasped. _“None of you can. You need a physical control matrix to get up there, and none of you have one.”_

_“Yeah, well, he’s not come back yet, which means he’s either up gone up there or he’s got caught.”_

_“There’s one way to find out- You have a computer I can use?”_

He gestured toward the video game terminal at the bar.

Rising unsteadily, she made her way over to it. Leaning heavily on the bar, she tried to call forth Allie’s coding knowledge. It came to her in fits - the screen morphed itself under her fingers -  the screen pulling up a keyboard for her to use. Bit by bit, the coding came to her, until she felt sure enough to hit return. It was greeted with the endearing message ‘Sending . . . . ‘ . . . . and nothing else.

_“Weird - I can’t get it to connect.”_

_“Yeah- sorry. After she shot me I took the precaution of making the room 3-proof.”_

_“Shit -  you could have said something,”_ Jen hissed. _“Looks like I have to get to the Library.”_

_“Oh hell no - She’ll be waiting for you. I’ll go.”_

Jen looked at him skeptically. 

_“You know what to look for?”_

_“Not a clue, but I figured you could tell me.”_

She looked at him warily for a moment, carefully phrasing her fears.

_“Can I actually trust you? I mean, your whole thing has been self-destruction; why would that change?”_

_“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t,”_ he confessed. _“I know I wouldn’t. Thing is, all I’ve ever wanted was for you to see me -  to know I existed. And now you do. I know if I blow this - that all goes away again. I hope that’ll be enough to keep me from screwing up again, but I can’t promise it will. So it’s your call. How do you want to do this?”_

Resting her head in her hand, Jen took a long, deep breath. 

 _“Go,”_ she ordered finally.

_“You sure?”_

_“No, but if nothing else, you can lead her on a merry chase.”_

_“Oh, that I can do - with pleasure,”_ he grinned fiendishly. 

Slipping behind the bar, he opened the register and pulled a pair of headsets out of the drawer. One he dropped into his own ear, the other he handed to Jen. 

“ _Never thought I’d get to use these.”_

Jen accepted the headset, reluctantly. 

_“If she’s nearby I won’t be able to talk to you, but you’ll still hear what’s going on.”_

_“If I need to ask you something that’s going to be a problem. Maybe click your tongue? Once for yes, twice for no.”_

_“Better than nothing,”_ he shrugged, carefully styling his hair to conceal the headset.  _“If I do it three times, it means I’m in trouble. You should be all right here, but not sure how long this place will stand if she sucks me in.”_

His hands began shaking as he rifled through the drawers, searching for anything that might be useful. Bottle openers, matchbooks, bits of wire, bobby-pins -  all of it got crammed into his pockets in his panic. Eventually even he could no longer postpone the inevitable.  

 _“Okay - I’m off, then,”_ he declared. Standing before her, he gazed at her for what felt like an age. _Is this how it ends? I wish I knew what to say. . . ._

 _“You okay?”_ Jen asked, breaking the silence.

_“Oh, yeah; fine. Fine. I’ll just umm. . . . see myself out,then.”_

_“Good luck.”_

_“Thanks.”_

He pulled the door closed, still peering through the crack to assure himself she was really there. As it sealed itself, he whirled around to check his surroundings, hoping no one saw him.

 _“Right. Let’s end this,”_ he murmured to himself as he made for the library. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

It was nearly dawn when James let himself in; desperately trying - and failing - to quietly turn the heavy, ancient locks.  Not surprisingly, it awakened everyone except Stephanie. Vic sat bolt upright on the couch, unsure what to expect. He could hear Jen struggling to get herself up. 

“Sorry - just me,” he announced quietly.

Vic relaxed visibly, but the stirring from Jen’s room continued. Concerned, he made it his first stop. 

She met him at the door, poised to strike.

“Easy - it’s me,” he said, his hands up defensively. 

Logan eyed him warily for a moment before relaxing their stance. _No sense wasting the opportunity, at least._

“Need you to help me with something,” he entreated. 

“Yeah, okay. What do you need?” 

“Bandages are making it hard to breathe. Think it’s time for them to go.”

“Oh hon, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’s there so you remember not to over-exert yourself. You sure you want to take a chance on that?”

“Yeah, look, I promise I’ll be real careful Won’t lift a thing.”

“This wouldn’t be about looking good for your boyfriend, would it?”

“No,” Logan sneered. “I just think it’d be better all around if I could breathe deeper. Doctors even said they don’t usually bother wrapping anymore because of the pneumonia.”

“Logan?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Yeah . . .  beginning to recognize you,” he drawled. Pulling the door closed behind him, he lowered his voice. “I’ll do it, but I need to ask you  -  are you the guy that hit her?”

“It was an accident,” Logan insisted. “Not that that makes any difference.”

“I am gonna catch absolute hell from Steph when she wakes up,” James muttered as he began to unwrap them. “First sign you’re over-doing it and they go right back on.”

“Fair enough,” Logan shrugged gingerly. “So who’s been asking about me?”

“Wouldn’t tell me who they worked for, though they claim to know you. Guy was kind of older -  couldn’t tell you how old, but I’d say he had at least twenty years on the guy he was with.”

“Yeah, a lot of people know me -  that don’t mean they like me. What did they want?”

“Mainly to talk to Jen - or you, I guess.”

_Knew it wouldn’t last. They could be anybody. Got to step things up; first chance I get, make a break for it and find Strange._

“Got to be real careful with people like that. They rarely turn out to be what or who they say they are.”

“They seemed real concerned that H.A.M.M.E.R. might catch wind of what happened,” James hinted. 

“That so? Huh - I can agree there.”

“Anyway, I’m supposed to call them at noon.”

_Doesn’t give me a lot of time. . . ._

“Okay -  all done,” James declared, wadding the bandage in his hands. “Just take it slow -  you don’t want to aggravate these injuries by twisting the wrong way or something.”

“No sweat -  I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have. Think I’ll just go online for a bit before I head back to bed.”

“Okay - just try to get some sleep.”

Logan nodded, watching James leave as the computer booted. _Oh, thank god -  no password required._ He was greeted almost immediately by an IM from WyrmPrince45

*What time should I come by?*

He hastily did the math in their head. _They expect to hear from him at noon; probably be in position before then - hell, might have eyes on the place already. Sooner we’re out the door, the better for everyone. If I’m going to make it to Strange, I’ll need cover and a pair of hands._

*9:30 if you can*

The answer came back surprisingly quickly.

*It’s earlier than I’m used to, but for you, beautiful, I’ll even risk daylight*

Logan tried not to roll his eyes as he face-palmed.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

In the cockpit, Sasha was growing concerned. The monitor was showing them awake and moving, yet none of her attempts to maneuver them seemed to work.

 _“No. . . . damnit. Please. Not now-  not today!”_ she pleaded to no one in particular. _At least whoever it is has the decency to get those bandages off. Ugh._ Peeking her head into the corridor, she wondered whether it was better to wait it out or head to the library and find out what was going on. _But that means dealing with 3, and you just know someone will slip into the cockpit while I’m out. And I’d miss my date._

Locking the door behind her, she pulled up a comfy chair for herself and waited. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

3, still weakened, stared agape at the newly formatted catalog. _Oh, this will not stand. He isn’t even one of us!_ Typing furiously, she scrambled to un-do the override. 

 _“Are you satisfied?”_ she scowled at Lyle as he strode in. _“Now no one can get out.”_

_“Don’t look at me - I don’t even know what’s been done.”_

_“Oh don’t pretend -  he’s over-ridden the system. We’re entirely offline.”_

_“Well done - we could use a holiday,”_ Lyle grinned. _“You certainly look like you need the rest.”_

3 exhaled a long plume of clove smoke, trying not to let him crack what remained of her composure.

 _“So he is up there?”_ Jen’s voice crackled through the headset. 

Lyle, now leaning over Agent 3’s chair, clicked his tongue once, reading the monitor with interest.

 _Ooh - he’s got the bandages off. Finally,”_ Lyle cheered.

 _“I don’t know about this - can we trust him?”_ Jen fretted.

Lyle paused for thought before clicking his tongue once more.

3 glared at him in speechless irritation. Turning back to the monitor, she noticed the sleep cycle was about to resume. _Perfect -  he might not even notice. I’ll still have to find a way to lock him out, but it’s a start._ Quickly composing a command line, she watched the monitor, poised on the enter key and waiting to strike.

_Entering sleep cycle in 3. . . . 2. . . . 1_

_*click*_

_“Ah well, no rest for the wicked, eh?”_ Lyle observed. _“Since you’ve got a minute - I mean now that you’re all done riding over his override in our sleep. I’ve been meaning to ask you - when you’ve got someone strapped down  in that chair of yours, forcing every horrid thing they’ve ever lived through on them again and again -  does it turn you on?”_

Slamming her chair backwards into him, 3 whirled on him in a cold fury.

 _“It does, doesn’t it?”_ he leered. _“I mean, why else would you keep at it?”_

_“No.”_

_“Course it does! I mean, you go on about how we’d all cease to exist if you didn’t, but the truth is you just need the control. It’s like a drug for you. ”_

_“I don’t have to listen to your bullshit,”_ Agent 3 scowled.

_“You should, though. I mean -  who else is going to tell you the truth? I may be the self-destructive chaos factor of this merry little band, but you’re the real dark side.”_

At that 3 drew her pistol, letting off a single shot toward his chest.

 _At last._ Lyle barely managed to dodge the bullet - it grazed his biceps as he darted out of its path.  _Got to keep this up  -  get her out of the library and drain her down shot by shot._

 _“Lyle, what the hell? You were just supposed to look at the system! Cut the shit and get back here,”_ Jen scolded.

Positioning himself around a bend in the corridor, he clicked his tongue twice. _She still back there?_ He craned his neck ever so slightly to check.She stood firm in the doorway, the gun still smoking in her hand.

 _“That’s it, isn’t it? You really are evil,”_ he shouted from his perch. _“You’re actually willing to become just like our attackers.”_

Another shot whizzed past his ear, followed shortly by one more. _Still too careful. I’ll have to try harder._

_“Is it true - the real reason you absorbed Toby was that you wanted him?”_

Several more shots rewarded his efforts -  this time closer. One of them managed to strike true at last as it pierced straight through his arm. Shrieking in agony, he fell back to another alcove further down.

Managing to put a little space between them, he felt safe enough to fill Jen in.

_“Well, she’s out of the library.”_

_“Yeah, and trying to kill you. What the hell were you thinking?”_

_“It’s a really good plan. Listen -  in a glass next to the register, there’s a bullet. It’s part of 3. I drain her down, you pull her in in itty bitty pieces, yeah?”_

_“Are you nuts?!? No, man. I’m still wobbly from Allie, and she volunteered.”_

_“Yeah, I know but trust me - at this size, it’ll be easier. And you don’t have to do it all at once. A couple now, a few later; like crisps.”_

Internally, he counted off the number of shots - _Need to triple that. Fifteen, maybe twenty shots ought to be manageable._ He made a point of sticking out ever so slightly to draw her fire. It succeeded marvelously, earning him another slug through his hand. Howling in agony, he dove for higher ground.

 _“Lyle; just call it off -  get out of there,”_ Jen pleaded.

 _“Too late now,”_ he wheezed, keeping one eye over his shoulder. _“Look, it’s tricky, but you can do this. You need to.”_

Jen stared at the shot glass, finding small comfort in the row upon row of bottles lining the walls. _At least I’ll have something to wash it down with._ Pouring herself a whiskey, she settled herself onto a stool. Nervously, she withdrew the slug from the glass, rolling it around in her fingertips for a moment. She could feel it pulsing -  the flat end of every beat luring her in as it sought an entry into which it could expand. 

 _“You devious little - “_ she began before she felt Allie stirring within her, the insight unfurling like stillness in a temple. 

_Master it first -  it will bend._

_But how?_ she pondered. 

Closing her fist around it, she could feel it digging into her palm. Instantly loosening her grip, she placed it back on the bar for a moment while she sorted out the next approach.

The sound of gunfire crackled  through the headset, along with Lyle’s panting. _He can’t keep that up for long._ Picking up the bullet again, she held it at arms length, narrowing her eyes.

_“You don’t own me. You don’t dare - I made you.”_

She could feel the pulsing slow as the bullet calmed in her grasp. When it finally fell still, she placed it in her mouth, chasing it down with half the glass of whiskey.

Lyle, still running, had managed to stumble across Michael and Charlene. 

 _“What in the hell is going on?”_ Michael exclaimed as Lyle brushed past him in his panic.

 _“3’s lost it - Duck!”_ he sputtered, diving for cover.

Michael saw three more bullets streaming out of the hallway Lyle had fled from. _Well, this is why I’m here._ Ducking into a blind corner, he waited for 3 to approach, tackling her as soon as she was close enough.

 _“Drop it,”_ he ordered as he grappled with her. 

 _“How dare you - you’re my defender!”_ she spat. 

_“No, not yours - Jen’s.”_

Lyle, no longer being pursued, cautiously inched back to see why. Frantically writhing on the ground, 3 was craning to try and get a bite on Michael. 

 _“Mind the teeth!”_ he bellowed, dashing forward to land a kick to her jaw. 

Michael twisted her into a less comfortable hold, managing to pull rope out of his ether. 

 _“Where’s Jen?”_ he demanded after he finished binding 3.

 _“Safe,”_ Lyle coughed, catching his breath. 

 _“You’re not a man whose word I trust,”_ he glowered. 

 _“You can come out now!”_ Lyle shouted theatrically.

 _“Owww - that was uncalled for,”_ Jen winced into the headset. _“Just put him on  -  there’s something I have to do.”_

Pouting, Lyle removed his headset and handed it to Michael.

 _“She wants to say hi,”_ he croaked, sullenly making his way over to the most recently fired bullet. 

 _“Are you safe?”_ Michael asked. _“Have you been injured?”_

_“A little woozy, but fine. Are you all okay?”_

_“Lyle’s been hit - I don’t know how badly, ”_ Michael replied. 

 _“I know, “_ she sighed. _“Watch him carefully -  if he starts acting strangely, tie him down. Now I need you all to gather up the bullets. Don’t let them touch one another, and try not to handle them too much -  they’ll creep into any wound they can and take you over. Don’t let 3 anywhere near them. I have to head up to central.”_

_“As you command.”_

Walking over to where Lyle was busily digging out the the slug, Michael handed back the headset. 

 _“Allow me;_ _you’re in no shape to handle them.”_

Shrugging, he let him take over, watching him wrap it in his handkerchief.

 _“There’s a lot more down that way,”_ Lyle waved vaguely in the direction he’d come. _“God, I need a drink.”_

_“Don’t go too far; I’m under orders to watch you.”_

_“None of them stuck -  I can promise you that,”_ Lyle protested as he pulled a glittering matchbook from his long coat. _“If you want proof, try and throw one of those through after me.”_

Michael watched as the door to Lyle’s domain swung open and he stepped in, the doorway shimmering ever so slightly as he did so. Curious, he tossed the slug in as instructed, watching it freeze and begin to immolate in the force field. 

 _“Proof enough for me,”_ Michael concurred.

_“Now I need a drink and a long, long nap. If Jen needs me, tell her to drop on by. Otherwise, I’ll be here, sleeping it off.”_

With that, he closed the door, letting it disappear into the wall again. Leaning heavily against the wall behind him, he surveyed his empty domain, now somehow emptier with Jen’s departure. _But she_ ** _was_** _here; no one can take that from me._ His gaze fell on the two glasses she had left on the bar - one now empty, the other the half-drained whiskey. Staggering over to it, he caressed the glass tenderly before raising it in salute. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

 __Sasha, oblivious to all of this, had awakened some time ago, and immediately set about dressing to impress.

“Not the heels, honey,” Steph yawned, still working on her first cup of tea. “Why on earth did you tell him to come by this early?”

 

“I don’t know - it seemed like a good idea at the time. Help me with my hair?”

“Be so glad when you can handle this on your own again,” Steph grumbled. 

In the living room, James sprawled on the couch Vic had abandoned in favor of hunting down coffee and bagels. Still exhausted, he cast a leery eye toward Jen’s bedroom. _Which is worse - leaving this stranger in her head, or handing her over to dubious strangers who may or may not do terrible things to her? It’s not like he’s made any real attempt to get out. Maybe he can’t? Maybe he has no body to go back to? Anyway, she’ll be here all morning; if they wanted to talk to her, I’m sure Sasha would be delighted to gossip their ears off._

“Perfect,” Sasha declared. “Thank you Steffi -  I’d be lost without you.”

Steph nodded sleepily, then headed in for her turn at the shower. 

“Morning, kiddo,” Vic chuckled from her doorway. “Looking better.”

“How sweet -  thank you. Will you be staying to meet Jeremy?”

“Probably not hon - I gotta eat and run.”

“Oh please?” she pouted. “He’ll be here soon.”

“Oh, all right.”

Sasha smiled at that, though it faded quickly. 

“You okay kiddo?”

“Um. . . . yeah - fine. Maybe some coffee?”

“Should probably eat something,” Vic commented, not noticing the change in her voice. 

“Yeah; I’ll do that.”

Logan took a quick look in the mirror to assess the damages. _Not terrible -  at least I can fight in this if I need to._

Just then, the buzzer rang, sending the apartment into a tizzy. 

“He’s on his way up, hon.”

“Okay,” Logan answered from behind the door. 

Distracted as he was, he almost didn’t notice Jen walk into the crawl space behind him. 

 _“So it’s true - you actually are really someone else,”_ she noted. 

_“Yup. Sorry about the hijacking, but if I’m ever going home, I need to start looking for it.”_

_“No biggie. She’ll whine about  it, but we’ll manage.”_

_“You smell different,”_ heobserved. 

 _“Allie is back with me,”_ she answered _. “And a sliver of 3.”_

 _“And some of Lyle, too,”_ he nodded, his attention divided as Jeremy arrived. _“You want to take this?”_

_“Nah - I have to go clear up the mess down there. But you might want to let Sasha have a little fun with the guy before you ruin his day.”_

Logan raised an eyebrow at this.

 _“What is the plan, exactly?”_ Jen inquired.

_“I know a guy who deals with stuff like this. He lives in the city, so if he’s home, this should be a piece of cake. Find him, track my body down, go home - pretty much it. The tricky part is finding my body - could take an hour, could take days. “_

_“And will you need to pilot the whole time?”_ she asked softly. 

_“Don’t_ **_have_ ** _to, but I get the feeling I’ll be up here a lot. Why?”_

_“Nothing -  I just . . . I’d like to see my sister one more time. I get the impression that not everyone who goes with you comes back.”_

Logan sighed. 

_“Right now, no. Time is too tight. But I promise you, if we have to leave New York, you will see her before we go.”_

Jen looked downcast at that. 

_“I could try to kick you out.”_

_“You could,”_ he admitted. _“Wish you wouldn’t.”_

She paused to consider her options, still overwhelmed by it all.

 _“I’ll trust you,”_ she shrugged. _“Don’t make me regret that.”_

He nodded as she turned to go, shifting his attention back to the outside. _Okay; let’s have a look at you -_ he took a moment to size up Jeremy. _God, I’m screwed. Not even sure the kid could fight a cold, never mind one of Osbourne’s goons. Can only hope he’s a quick study._

“Anyway, the flowers are lovely, “ Steph chimed in on the conversation he’d zoned out on.

The enormous bouquet of lilies on the kitchen table finally caught Logan’s attention.

“They’re beautiful -  thank you,” he agreed. 

The kid bowed his head, blushing slightly. _Please, God - I want my amnesia back. . . ._ Biting back his qualms, he leaned in to whisper into the kid’s ear. 

“We should get out of here.”

“Um, ok,” Jeremy replied nervously, hiding their conversation behind his teacup. “If you’re sure you’re up for it.Maybe a movie?”

“Perfect - I’m going stir-crazy here,” Logan exhaled. 

The kid lay his hand over Logan’s sympathetically. It took all his willpower not to flinch.

“What do you feel like seeing?” 

“I don’t care - anything. I’d go to a film festival of dog food ads if it’d get me out of here,” Logan snapped. 

The kid snarfed his tea clear across the kitchen. 

“You okay?” Steph asked, rising to clean up the mess.

“Fine, I’m okay. - oh no; let me,”Jeremy replied, grabbing some napkins from the table.

“So, what have you two got planned?” Steph quizzed, eyeing Jen as she sat back down.

“We’re going to the movies,” Logan answered before digging into his bagel.

“Hmmm - you sure you’re up to going out?” James asked pointedly.

“Oh yeah. It’ll help clear my head,” Logan replied, his eyes meeting James’ knowingly.

“All right - prefer if you stayed local,” Steph added, oblivious.

“Oh, we will,” Logan lied. 

“If it’ll put your mind at ease, Steph, I can drop them off. On their own to get back, though,” Vic volunteered.

“Perfect -  thanks,” Logan smiled. 

Steph sighed, resigned to whatever Jen’s personalities had planned. James fell quiet, his mind racing. Excusing himself from the table, he disappeared into the living room, digging around in Vic’s bag for something.

As they prepared to leave, James pulled Jeremy into the bathroom for a quick chat.

“Look, I need to know. Can I trust you?”

“I think so -  why?”

“This whole thing’s really taken a lot out of her. She’s a little . . . . vulnerable. But there’s a lot of weird shit that none of us quite get, and she will need someone who can protect her. Can you?”

“I think so - I mean, I will, but I haven’t really been in a lot of fights.”

James clapped him on the shoulder, laying Vic’s folding knife in the kids hands.

“I’ll expect that back - just slip it in her purse; you’ll be carrying it anyway. And this chat - “

“Never happened?” Jeremy smiled. “I won’t let anything happen to her. Promise.”

James nodded, kicking the kid out. _I hope this is right;_ he stared at his reflection in the mirror, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. _At least let her live through this._

“All set?” Logan asked impatiently, eyeing the clock on the microwave. _Eleven already -  got to high-tail it if we’re gonna clear the borough before noon._

“Good to go,” Jeremy chirped, checking his back pocket.

“Vic’s pulling the car around, “ Steph informed them. “Just be careful -  try to stay away from big crowds; I don’t want someone knocking you down by accident.”

“We’ll be fine - it’s only a movie,” Logan retorted. 

Once both the apartment and elevator doors closed behind them, Logan turned on Jeremy. 

“Okay - this is how we’re going to do this. I’ll get Vic to drop us at a theatre near the subway. From there we’re heading in to Greenwich Village. You with me?”

“I’m with you, beautiful - you sure you’re okay for this? I’d hate for you to over-do it and wind up hurting yourself.”

“You don’t understand -” Logan leaned in to the kid, failing to look intimidating as Jen’s balance wobbled. ”It is  vitally important I get to the Village. Either come with me or stay out of the way.”

“I promised your cousin I’d keep you safe;” Jeremy stated. “I’m with you. But could you just tell me what we’re doing?”

“We’re going on a manhunt.”

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Sebastian noted the car pulling up in front of the building they had been watching, unable to make out who was getting into it.

“Is that her? I can’t tell.”

“That’s a guy,” Daisy shot back, irritably.

“No, I mean the one he held the door for. Kind of hard to tell with the hood up on that sweatshirt.”

Squinting, Daisy looked again as they pulled away past them.

“It’s her. Where the hell are they going?”

She pulled the car out abruptly - after the plane incident she didn’t trust Druid with a vehicle - and tailed them.

With one eye perpetually watching the rear-view mirror, Logan was having a tough time keeping up with the small talk. When they did finally pull up at the theatre, Vic stopped her before she got out of the car. 

“You sure you’re okay? You barely said a word since we left the house. If you’re not comfortable, I can get you home.”

“Relax -  I’m just a little overwhelmed. Being cooped up too long does things to me.”

“Okay. You got my number? And James’s? This gets weird, call,” he insisted before letting her go.

“You’re the best, man” Logan nodded, as he scanned the street. _There’s that tail again._

The kid offered his hand to help her out of the car. Leaving him hanging, Logan made his way toward the theatre doors, leaving the kid to catch up.

“Things just got a lot more complicated,” Logan muttered once he had. “We’ve been followed.”

“We have? Okay. Where?” Jeremy searched the crowd for anything out of place.

“Dark car, double-parked across the street,” Logan intoned, physically pulling the kids gaze away from the road. Checking the movie times on the board, he crossed his fingers and hoped for an enormous audience to suddenly let out.

As if in answer, a throng of people streamed out slowly from the diner down the street, heading past them toward the subway. 

“Stay low and keep quiet,” Logan instructed, pulling the kid along. 

The kid squeezed his hand in reply, following closely as he tried to shield her from the crowd.

 _Can’t see if we lost them - car’s gone, at least._ Before he knew it, they were up the stairs to the Manhattan-bound 7. The kid fished a MetroCard out of his pocket, gently pulling Logan toward the booth. 

“Can we use the door? Her shoulder’s messed up,” Jeremy entreated. 

The clerk glowered in irritation, but hit the buzzer all the same before going back to his phone call. 

Holding the door open for her, Jeremy couldn’t resist a little bow.

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

“You can stop calling me that any time now,” Logan snapped.

“But you are, “ Jeremy protested. 

Logan growled as he stormed toward the Manhattan-bound platform. _Transfer in midtown; gives us another chance to shake a tail if we need to._

Jeremy caught up quickly, glancing around to try and spot who she believed was following them. None of the faces stuck out to him. 

“Where in the village are we heading?” he asked, trying to be helpful. 

“Bleecker Street. If I can find him, I have a friend down there who will help us.”

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

 _It’s getting late - thought I’d hear from the guy by now,_ Druid realized as he and Daisy searched the street for any sign of the girl.

“She probably ducked out when the traffic picked up,” Daisy surmised. 

“I’m thinking we should call them. I’m supposed to hear from her family by noon. “

“Fine - you search the train -  I’ll check the bus stops. Text if you find her.”

They split off  - Daisy to search the avenue with the car, Sebastian trudging up to the stairs to the city-bound train. _Doubt she’d head the other way, but at least I can check both sides from here._ Arriving just as the train pulled in, he frantically searched the crowd. _Gotcha._ A couple of cars down from him they were just getting on. _No time!_ He quickly dashed into the nearest pair of doors, getting his ankle caught as they closed on him. Pulling it in after him as they re-opened again, he quickly pulled out his phone. 

*Found! - on 7 to NYC*

*Where R U?*

*on 7; 2 cars over*

 _They really need an emoticon that can roll its eyes,_ Daisy fumed as she changed course for the city. 

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Jeremy hovered over her seat on the train, rolling things over in his mind. _She says she’s all right, but I’m not sure I believe her. Caught her wincing a couple of times on the way up. Is this real? Is she making it up? Maybe it’s a fantasy thing; that’d be awesome. Nah -  seems a little too driven. And when she says ‘manhunt’, what does that mean?_

She blanched again as the train hit a hard bump, jostling the rider next to her into her bad shoulder. Instinctively, he reached out to caress her cheek. _If it gets bad, I’m calling her sister. She might never forgive me, though. Until then, I’m on a mad escapade with a beautiful woman, and I’m going to enjoy every second._

They were pulling into Jackson Heights.

“We could switch here - take the E to West 4th,” he suggested. 

“Rather switch at Grand Central - “ Logan grunted, keeping an eye on the crowd shuffling onto the platform. “Easier to lose someone there if we have to.”

“Why do you think they’re chasing us?” the kid asked playfully. 

Logan caught sight of the guy from the car, craning his neck as if looking for someone on the train before stepping into the car behind their own just as the doors closed. _Wonderful.  Of course you were too busy mooning over us to notice this._

“Not sure who they work for, but James spoke to them last night; said they wanted to talk to me about the attack. He was supposed to call them at noon, but they had the place staked out well before.”

“Cops?” Jeremy asked, the mirth drained right out of his voice.

“No; precinct never heard of these guys. Besides, that’s not how they operate.”

_Do I really want to know how you know that?_

“So what do they want?”

“Not sure - at a guess, I’d say they were after the guy that landed on me.”

“So who are we looking for?”

“The guy who landed on me - well, first we find my friend, then him.”

“Okay; just so I can keep them clear - do either of these guys have names?”

“Doctor Strange is our first stop. No need to guess at the other guy’s name yet.”

“Didn’t know you practiced,” the kid beamed. “Always wanted to meet him.”

“I don’t, but there are some things you just need a sorcerer for.”

The kid settled into the recently vacated seat beside her, both bemused and perplexed. 

One car over, Druid was finally on the phone with James. 

“What happened? We expected to hear from you about your cousin?”

“Yeah - ummm . .  about that,” James answered nervously, stepping into the bathroom. “She’s not here.”

“Oh,” Druid responded. _I know that; I’m half-way through Queens chasing her, you moron!_ he wanted to shout. Taking a deep breath, instead he asked “Any idea where she might be heading?”

“She said they were going to a movie. Whether she’ll stay there I don’t know,” James professed. Lowering his voice, he continued. “This might not mean much, but she said she needed to get out and clear her head.”

“Were those her exact words?” Druid queried.

“Verbatim,” James muttered softly. 

_Could it be? Hmmmmm . . . . ._

“If you hear from her, please - contact me immediately. Sorry to trouble you.”

“If you find her, be gentle - she’s not been herself,” James entreated. 

“We’ll do our best,” Druid promised, ending the call. 

Leaning on the post nearest the door, he carefully watched the crowds getting on and off at every station, waiting for her to make her move. _Where are you heading? Are you really in there, trying to find a way out? Or have I just spent all morning making some poor crazy girl even crazier by chasing her?_

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

“So I know you write; what else are you into?” Jeremy inquired, breaking the long silence. 

Logan sighed, growling ever so slightly. 

“Look, I know you want to have this long, probing conversation where you find out all our hobbies and interests, but now is a bad time.”

“See,  here’s what confuses me -  Online yesterday you were flirtatious, happy - you seemed into me. Today, it’s like you’re a whole other person.”

“Got it in one,” Logan quipped.

“So, what - are you like, possessed or something?”

“Kind of like that - look, there’s no way to say this that isn’t going to sound wrong, but I’d really like to just get out of your girlfriend. I didn’t even want to be here in the first place.”

Jeremy slid back away in his seat, stunned. 

“Are you  - are you him?” he wheezed. 

“Yeah - it’s been a rough couple of days,” Logan shot back, his expression effectively ending the conversation.

“I’ll bet.”

At long last, the subway pulled into Grand Central, prompting a mass exodus onto the platform. Druid tried to sweep the crowd to no avail. _Just too crowded. This is probably stupid, but it’s my only shot -_ Taking a deep breath, he shouted  just one word:

“Logan!”

Only five people turned around - She was one of them. Sebastian grinned in relief.

Realizing he’d just been made, Logan let out a long stream of curses as he bolted for the shuttle, into the thickest part of the crowd.

Druid, pushing his way through the traffic, called out to her.

“It’s okay - I’m a friend!”

He didn’t get real far before the kid tripped him.

“Leave her alone!” Jeremy shouted, watching her disappear out of the corner of his eye. His whole frame shook with fury.

“Kid, I’m trying to save her,” Druid groaned, pulling himself off the floor.

Unsure of what to do next, and knowing he probably could not take him down again if he had to, Jeremy slipped away into the crowd to track down Jen.

Druid, now certain, quickly hit redial to reach Daisy. 

“He’s in there - we found him! I think they’re headed for Strange’s place, ” he warbled, excited by the rarity of being right.

Daisy was relieved to be stuck at a light -  it gave her a chance to face-palm. Inhaling sharply, she shook her head in her hands 

“So what you’re telling me,” she pronounced in a clipped, measured tone.” Is that we have spent ALL MORNING chasing someone down to bring them to someone they were on their way to anyway?”

“Ummmm; yeah.”

“Sometimes I really hate this gig.”

“I know; look, just meet me there. We’re almost home on this,” Druid urged.

 _Only one tiny dilemma,_ he reckoned. _Do I shadow them the rest of the way, making her panic more, or just meet them there, and take my chances that no one else gets to them? I lose them now, I’ll never hear the end of it. Fury’ll fire me so fast, I’ll burn on re-entry._ His path cleared, he resumed his search.

Jeremy finally located Jen, pale, panicked, and panting as she pressed against a pillar.

“It’s okay-  it’s me. I’m here,” he cooed. “Are you hurt?”

“Caught in the crush -  just need some air,” Logan coughed, trying not to show the pain.

“All right - lean on me; we’re going to cab it the rest of the way,” Jeremy insisted.

He draped her arm over his shoulder, leading her up to the surface.

Druid, wheezing, managed to spot them on the stairs. _No way to close the distance -  have to catch them top-side._ Following them, he had no idea what to do when he surfaced. 

Surveying the crowd, he caught sight of them only a short distance away, hailing a taxi. As one pulled up, he observed her almost crawling into it as the kid held the door. _She’s really slowed down; oh god, don’t die!_ With one final burst of speed, he managed to catch the door before it closed behind the kid, pulling himself in next to them.

“It’s OK; Fury sent me,” he gasped, his pleading look cast in Jen’s direction. “I figure since we’re all going down to Bleecker, we might as well split a cab.”

“You work for Fury?” Logan intoned, incredulously.

“Yeah, I do,” leaning forward, he addressed the driver. “177A Bleecker - near Sullivan - and step on it!”

An uneasy hush settled over the three of them as they retreated into their thoughts. 

 _This has to be a trap - How the hell would Fury even know about this?_ Logan reasoned.  _Though let’s face it, how the hell does Fury_ ** _ever_** _know half of what he knows? If they haven’t got my body, I bet they know where it is. Why else would they know I’m looking for Strange?_

Druid’s mind spiraled in a different orbit. _How in the hell did Blackheart get you in there? And seriously - how badly do you have to piss someone off to make them do that? Damn. . . ._

 _I’m on a date with a dude._ Jeremy tossed the thought around a couple of times. It made him giggle.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Pulling up in front of the now-familiar scaffold, Druid stepped out to settle up with the cabbie while the kid helped her out of the car. Daisy was waiting for them, leaning impatiently on the side of the car. 

“You I remember,” Logan sneered. “Didn’t you kill me once?”

“Yup, that’s him,” Daisy concurred. “Fury’s waiting for us, so get in and let’s go.”

“Not until I get some answers,” Logan snapped. “Where are you taking us; and where’s Strange?”

“Strange and Voodoo are with the body - your body,” Daisy shot back sharply. “Things are getting stickier by the minute, so unless you’re happy with your new love here, I suggest we go. The ferry only runs every half-hour.”

Skeptically, Logan took a step toward the car. Jeremy tripped over himself to beat her there, reaching for the door latch.

“Not you, kid -  this is invite only,” Daisy sneered.

“I’m here to take care of her - something I doubt the rest of you even gave a thought to,” Jeremy scowled. “Once he’s out, someone has to get her home, bind her wounds, and hold her hand when she needs it. Any of you even think about that?”

“I did,” Logan answered quietly. “You know this is no walk in the park? There’s a real possibility of getting hurt. Or worse.”

“I know.”

Turning to Daisy, Logan asked “This place - it’s not somewhere Nick needs to go again, is it?”

“No, he’s not taking that gamble again - not after last time.”

“Then he’s coming.”

Daisy threw her hands up, sighing in exasperation.

“Fine - he gives me grief, about it, I’ll send him to you.”

Resolved, they set off at last for the downtown terminal.

“It goes without saying that if you wake up and flip out, I will drop you again,” Daisy stated, breaking the awkward silence in the car.

“Do I look worried?” Logan snarled. “Do what you have to; as long as these two walk out of there intact, I call it a win.”

“No one’s killing anybody!” Druid shouted them down. “Look - it’s a simple extraction. You’ll be in the same state of mind you’re in when they pull you out. Just give me this one, guys.”

Daisy was stunned into silence. _We’re not done with this yet, but do have to hand it to you; you have turned this around. Just hope you don’t screw it up before it’s a done deal._

They split up at the garage, heading to the terminal in pairs. 

“I owe you an apology - “ Jeremy began. “I assumed you hadn’t thought about either of us; I hadn’t really given you a chance.”

“Appreciate it; truth is this isn’t how I wanted it to go. Kind of hoped Steph could be here for when she wakes up. I kind of promised Jen she’d see her again.”

“Maybe not right as she wakes up. . . . “ Jeremy suggested, digging out Jen’s cell phone. “But I can text her to meet us at the terminal. Just don’t know how long these things take.”

“Hard to say,” Logan shrugged. “I guess tell her we’ll call her once we’re on the boat. If she waits in the city, should be easy enough to get down here to meet it.”

The conversation ended abruptly as they caught up to Daisy and Druid on the boat. _It’s too easy . . . . what did I miss?_ The thought haunted him even as they approached the no-tell motel Fury had stashed his body in. 

Fury was waiting for them in the parking lot. He scrutinized Jen as they approached before turning his attention to Jeremy.

“Who’s this guy?And what the hell is he doing here?” he protested.

“He’s here for Jen,” Logan insisted. “And he stays.”

“Damnit, Logan -  I’ve done all I can to keep this off the grid. But even H.A.M.M.E.R. will eventually piece it together, and we’ll have a fire fight on our hands,” Fury raged. “I ain’t gonna be able to babysit him, and until you’ve been restored, you’re in no shape to.”

“I’ll cover him,” Druid volunteered.

Fury pinched at the throbbing in the center of his forehead. 

“Whatever -  you’ve been warned. Let’s get this over with.”

There seemed to be candles on every available surface of the room with the exception of the bed -  which had been moved away from the wall to accommodate the circle of salt surrounding it. A layer of incense and cigar smoke wafted lazily over the floor, refreshed almost constantly from the fumes cascading out of the censer. Sigils had been chalked onto every wall, every door -  even the ceiling. The two sorcerers were conferring near the foot of the bed, setting up an altar of sorts on what had probably been a dresser in a previous life. Jeremy let out a low whistle beside him. 

“Wow - this is some serious shit.”

Carefully stepping around the circle, Logan went to greet Strange, leaving Jeremy examining one of the wards in fascination. 

“We’ve just got to stop meeting like this,” Logan snorted, half - smiling.

Strange turned around to see a tall, moderately attractive young woman with all the mannerisms of his old compatriot. 

“Relieved to see you, old friend. I’m sure this has been a trying time for you.”

“You have no idea. What do you need me to do?”

“Eventually you’ll need to take your place inside the circle, though I suggest you do anything you might need to first - I’m sure the bathroom will be free momentarily.”

“Any idea how long this’ll take? I can hold it if we’re ready to go.”

“Difficult to say, really. Barring any further complications, an hour, maybe less. Once we are finally ready,” Strange inferred, his eyes fiery with indictments.

“I still think we’re over-thinking this,” Jericho retorted. 

“I know you and I have very different methods, but having lived through the worst-case scenario once already, I’m not about to try my luck again. We’re fortunate to have gotten here before anything else did.”

Dr. Carter finally emerged from the bathroom -  freshly showered and not at all pleased by Strange’s tone.

“What part of “sworn to secrecy” did you miss? I couldn’t call you in - even if I’d wanted to.”

“People!” Fury yelled, shouting them all down. “The clock is ticking here - save the woulda-coulda crap for later, and let’s go already!”

While Logan availed himself of the facilities, Strange noticed a young lad curiously examining the ward on one of the walls. excusing himself to Jericho, he made his way over to enquire.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he began.

“Jeremy, sir - it’s an honor to meet you.”

I noticed you were looking at the wards - have you used them before?”

“Honestly, no - I’ve always been curious, and I read everything I can get my hands on, but I haven’t actually done much.”

“That’s all right; I’m sure your mentor will let you once they think you’re ready.”

“Oh, no - I don’t have a teacher.”

“Oh,” he said flatly, concealing his disdain.

At the other end of the room, Logan approached Dr. Carter, who had settled herself into the chair in the corner. _Don’t need my senses to know you’ve been here all weekend._

“What?” she she snipped wearily. 

“Thought I should fill you in about Jen’s injuries before they pull me out - you know, in case. . . . also, thank you; I know this has been a mess.”

She nodded gratefully, noting it all down. 

Having finished, Logan at last stepped into the circle, taking a seat on the bed next to his body. _There really is no getting used to this. Wish Shaman was here; probably would’ve been done by now._ By now Druid and Jeremy had joined the two sorcerers, if only to eavesdrop. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the condition of his body. It was hard to see anything wrong with it through the two days of hair growth. He sneered at the IV drip hooked up to his arm, removing it while no one was looking. The puncture healed as quickly as he expected. 

“So what’s the hold-up?” he goaded. 

Voodoo gave Logan a knowing glance as he peered over the shoulder of a very tense, argumentative Strange. 

“I got this,” he insisted, patting Strange on the shoulder as he stepped past him and into the circle. Standing directly in front of the girl, he gazed deeply into her eyes. 

“I need you to relax; If the Loas are willing this will all go very smoothly. In a moment, my brother Daniel will join you to lead you back to your body.”

“If I’d known we were having company, I’d have ordered pizza,” Logan quipped. 

Jericho smiled at the joke without losing his focus. Slowly, he could feel Daniel emerge from within himself, slipping into the rather crowded aura of Jen. 

“He is with you now -  can you see him?”

Logan closed Jen’s eyes, peering about within their mind for some sign of him. He felt him before he saw him - a slight chill ran up their spine, as his body came into focus. 

“I see him - now what?” Logan answered. 

“I need you to take his hand.”

“Can’t I just, you know, follow him?” Logan quibbled. 

“If you could do that, we would have been done already. Just relax . . . .”

 _“I’m not liking this any more than you,”_ Daniel professed. _“But the sooner you do, the sooner we can get out of her.”_

Logan accepted Daniel’s outstretched hand with a shrug, letting himself be pulled free of Jen’s body and at last back into his own. 

 _“Ah yes - this is much better,”_ Daniel smirked as he settled in beside Logan. _“You don’t mind if I stay a spell, right?”_

 _“I’ve just spent a weekend in the head of someone ruled by committee;”_ Logan scowled. _“Really not up for company right now.”_

 _“Suit yourself,”_ he chirped with a dismissive shrug as he turned to go. 

 _“Thanks,”_ Logan  sighed, finally settling into his own skin. 

 _“Thanks for which -  the coming in or the going out?”_ Daniel asked, turning again to face him. 

_“For understanding? But yeah, both of those too.”_

Daniel seemed satisfied with that answer, as he finally departed, nestling back into Jericho. 

Opening his own eyes for the first time in days, he could feel the crust of the long sleep scraping as the lids parted. The stench of the room hit him like a brick to the face -  even so he welcomed it.  

“Christ, Fury - been in better smelling sewers. Got a stogie on you?”

“Good to have you back,” Fury smirked, tossing him a cigar.  “All right; let’s clear out.”

And with that it was all over. Fury and his team stole away into the afternoon light. _Don’t even want to know where they’re off to._ The kids managed to catch a ride back to the city with Dr. Carter. Jen leaned heavily on Jeremy’s arm as he led her to the car. Glancing back at him, he could’ve sworn she winked. Turning back into the room, he closed the door behind him, shuddering at the thought. The sorcerers had nearly finished restoring the room to its squalid natural state. 

“I think it goes without saying that none of this ever happened,” he stated, lighting the cigar off one of the candles, ignoring Voodoo’s pained expression.

“None of what?” Strange replied, half-smiling. 

“Level with me, though - she gonna be all right?”

“I don’t think she’s likely to remember very much of your stay - usually people blank out or paper over these sorts of things. “

“I dunno - let’s hope,” he grumbled. _Hope those stay locked away -  for her sake, if not mine._

He was glad to tag along for the lift back to the city that Jericho offered, though he was in no mood to stick around. _Not sure there’s enough whiskey in the world to bleach this outta my brain, but I’m sure going to go look for it._ He took a minute to check his phone, which overflowed with missed calls. _It never ends,_ he sighed. He hit redial on Scott’s most recent call, surprised by how quickly he picked up

“Where are you?”Scott demanded. 

“New York. Get me home?”

“Picked a hell of a time to go AWOL; be ready in an hour.”

After hanging up, he scrolled through his phone book on a whim, finally finding who he was looking for. 

“Jeanne-Marie?  It’s me; there’s someone I think you should meet . . . .”

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Three months had passed before he found himself with time enough to track her down and check up on her. He caught her scent, along with Jeremy’s, near Union Square, following it all the way down to Avenue A. _At least she’s getting out again._ It led him way down the avenue, past the Raven, almost a block past the park, into a small, unassuming little doorway with far too many bouncers standing in front of it. The heady aroma of clove smoke blended with the familiar undertones of vomit and asphalt. This was not improved upon in any way by the fact that he could feel the bass thumping out of the tiny building three feet from the closed door. Undeterred, he swaggered in. The bar stretched from the doorway to the end of the long, narrow room, little more than a corridor leading to the main dance floor. Even without smokers the place managed to bury itself in a haze of candle smoke and fog machine mist, which burned in his nostrils like a chemical assault. The crowd mostly ignored him - _not wearing enough eyeliner, I guess -_ much to his relief. He was also relieved to be spared the maddening throes of the main dance floor. Their scents led him down to the basement. The crowd was thinner down there - people were scattered around the room in small cliques, talking, dancing, lounging, or some combination of the three. 

It wasn’t hard to spot them -  the two were off in the corner behind the pole that seemed to section off the dance floor randomly. Jen was dancing - _probably her first since the accident_ , he observed. Jeremy egged her on, fanning her flirtatiously as they bobbed and weaved in something that passed for synchronicity. For a moment, her gaze seemed to fall on him, but she turned away quickly, still absorbed in the song. 

Nodding, he smiled to himself as he turned to the bartender behind him. Pointing them out to her, he dropped a hundred onto the bar. 

“Their drinks are on me,” he leaned in to tell her before slipping away into the night.

*            *                *                     *                 *                  *                  *                   *                   *

Lyle lay sprawled on the couch in his domain when he was at last awakened from his slumber by the creak of the door opening. 

 _“Wuzzat?”_ he slurred, still only half - conscious.

 _“Hello Lyle,”_ the familiar voice intoned. _“You tried to trick me, didn’t you?”_

 _“No -  I never. . . . “_ he stammered haltingly, his gaze drifting lazily back to her glass -  the glass- still sitting on the bar, half-full. _“Okay, maybe I did.”_

 _“You knew I’d need a chaser for that slug, so you made sure I was here when I took it,”_ Jen sniped _“ where I’d be chasing it down with you.”_

 _“It’s not like I planned it,”_ he whinged, falling off the couch as he attempted to stretch out where he lay. 

_“So I need to ask you, now that 3 is gone and the others are reintegrated, are you ready?”_

Lyle stared up at her, dreamily nodding.Clumsily reaching up to her in his stupor, hestroked her cheek as his hand fell, searching for hers.

Jen pulled him to his feet with a sigh, steadying him on the low, padded arm of the couch. 

Taking one last look around, Lyle brushed the hair away from the side of her face before burying himself in her shoulder and dissolving into her embrace. 


End file.
